Morrigan's Daughter
by Magritte
Summary: Aedan and Alistair are traveling through Orlais on their way to Weishaupt when they learn that Wardens there have been having dreams about a strange little girl.  Sequel to Chasing Alistair
1. Coteaux du Roche:  Innuendo

1. COTEAUX DU ROCHE: INNUENDO

"A fine impression I will make in Coteaux du Roche, Aedan, arriving in a carriage like an old lady," complained Alistair, as I helped him into the carriage. "Why don't you ask Leliana what the aged spinsters are wearing at the court in Val Royeaux and deck me out for the role?"

I gave Alistair a quick kiss before getting on my horse. "Don't tempt her, Alistair. She's been trying to dress me ever since I got to Orlais." I sighed. "You know I would prefer not to have you travel at all with your injuries. Besides we're not there to impress the Orlesian Wardens, just to get your shield."

The previous day, Leliana and I had rescued Alistair from a run-in with some bandits on the road to Val Foret. Because Alistair's shield bore the Grey Warden insignia, they had naturally assumed him to be from the nearby Warden post at Coteaux du Roche, and had sent the shield there with a ransom letter.

Coteaux du Roche was a formidable fortress, perched on a high, rocky hill overlooking the highway between Val Royeaux and Val Foret. It had been the stronghold of the Orlesian Wardens since the Second Blight, with its four square towers and high walls. The Warden flag flew above the battlements, the silver griffon on a dark blue background, flapping in the early summer breeze.

As we rode up to the gate, a bored guard called out "State your business, stranger."

"We wish to see Commander Yves de Chambrais."

He frowned. "Uh…I do not know if that will be possible. I was not told that he was expecting visitors."

I held up my hand, showing my Warden Commander signet ring. "I think he'll see me."

His eyes widened. Piecing together the signet ring and my accent, he raised the portucullis and fell to his knees. "Forgive me, Commander Cousland. It is a great honor to meet you. Please enter. I will send a message to our commander immediately."

Yves met us in the audience chamber. He was a tall slim man with shoulder-length dark hair. To my eyes, he seemed a bit foppish to be a Grey Warden. The cut of his leather coat suggested fashion more than function, his gloves looked too thin to afford much protection and he wore velvet shoes rather than boots. However, he was Orlesian, after all, and I was certain the rapier at his belt was no mere decoration.

"Well, what an unexpected surprise to see my esteemed colleagues from Ferelden. I assume Alistair is on his way to Weishaupt as requested, though I am uncertain why he is coming this way rather than by sea. But I am _completely_ astonished by this visit from the great Commander Cousland; I had this curious idea that he had been specifically requested to remain in Amaranthine. How very piquant to see you! And I have not had the pleasure of meeting your charming companion," he said, bowing gracefully to Leliana.

"Good afternoon, Commander. This is my dear friend, Leliana."

"Ah, of course. Enchante, madame." He kissed herhand. "However, as much as I would like to enjoy the company of such a ravishing lady as yourself, I am afraid I shall have to ask you to stay here while my colleagues accompany me to my private chambers. We shall be discussing business that is private to the Wardens."

"Shall we?" I asked. "I don't believe my business here to be confidential in any way."

"Mine is. I do not intend to pass up an opportunity to discuss matters of great import with my fellow Commander." He turned to one of his men. "Do find a comfortable place for the Lady Leliana to wait and get her a goblet of wine. I would not have it said that we failed to provide for an honored guest." Turning back to us, he said. "Please come with me."

As he closed the door behind us, I helped Alistair into a seat and then sat down myself. I was not looking forward to this.

"So," Yves began, "What is this so not confidential business that brings you all the way from Amaranthine, Commander? It must be a great emergency to cause you to leave your post."

"We are here to get Alistair's shield back, no more," I said. "We were informed that it had been sent here with a ransom note."

"Ah, so it's your shield, then. We had all wondered, as we had no missing wardens here. I did send messenges out to inquire with some of the other posts in Orlais. How very fortunate that you managed to escape the bandits in one piece…more or less," he said to Alistair. "I must ask how a legendary warrior such as yourself fell prey to bandits on the road."

Alistair gritted his teeth. "There was a young woman on the road, who claimed a tree had fallen on her husband and she was too weak to lift it off of him herself. She led me down a path where I triggered a net trap and the other eight bandits ambushed me. I managed to cut myself out of the net with my sword, but by that time, I was already pretty beat up and was only able to kill three of them before succumbing."

"Serves you right," said Yves. "You're a Grey Warden on important business. You should not have delayed yourself for such petty reasons. What's next, looking for stray pets?"

"I will not fault Alistair for his good heart, though it led him into trouble on this occasion," I said evenly, placing a hand on Alistair's forearm. "I can only thank the Maker that Leliana and I were able to rescue him."

"Yet that only deepens the mystery. News of poor Alistair's predicament can hardly have reached Amaranthine so swiftly."

"It did not. However, I had come to Orlais in an effort to catch up to Alistair and accompany him to Weisshaupt."

"Had you indeed? How very fortunate for him. However, as I understand it, only Alistair was invited to Weisshaupt.. I believe you were given specific instructions to remain in Ferelden."

"Ah….there was a slight miscommunication. Alistair did leave instructions for me to stay, but it was not made clear to me that those instructions came from Weisshaupt." Strictly speaking, this was true, though I suspect I would have learned otherwise had I not avoided speaking to Nathaniel during my brief visit to Amaranthine. "I was not in Amaranthine when the messenger arrived, you see. You seem remarkably well informed about the situation. Why is that, Commander?"

"I am well informed because it was largely at my behest that Alistair was summoned. As you will recall from the last time we met, I was…dissatisfied with your explanation of the Archdemon's demise."

"Yes, yes, I have not forgotten, though I fail to see why it matters. Perhaps Riordan's soul had not yet fled and the Archdemon sought it out, perhaps this Archdemon was somehow weaker than his predecessors. Perhaps I was saved by the Maker himself. The Blight is over. A Warden's duty is to stop the Blight, not to die trying." I regretted that last choice of words, recalling that Riordan had been a friend of his.

"But is it over, really?"

"I must have missed the Darkspawn horde on my way up from Val Foret, if it is not." observed Alistair drily.

"There was a major Darkspawn uprising less than a year after the Blight in Ferelden."

"That had nothing to do with the Archdemon, I gave a full report on that, as you know."

"So you did. Yet it remains an…anomaly, as does your survival." His eyes narrowed. "I cannot help thinking that the Blight was not ended but somehow…altered in a way that we cannot recognize it. I have had strange dreams, lately," he remarked.

"Wardens always have strange dreams, Blight or not," I observed, careful not to react to that unexpected comment.

"Do not patronize me Commander," he snapped. "Although I don't doubt that you have slain more Darkspawn than any man alive, I was a Warden when you were still a child. I know what to expect from taint dreams and the ones that I and my men have been having in the past months are unlike anything I have experienced before. _He _knows what I mean." He pointed at Alistair. "Don't deny it—I saw you start when I mentioned dreams."

Alistair sighed. "I did have an odd dream when I was in Val Foret, it is true."

He turned back to fix his stare on me. "You really don't know what I'm talking about? Well, perhaps you don't…you haven't been here very long, have you? Or perhaps you're just a very good liar. Regardless, I want to know who that girl is who has been haunting our dreams."

"A _girl_?" I asked with feigned incredulity. "I fail to see how this can have anything to do with me. I've never even been here before. And if you have questions for me, I cannot understand why you asked them to summon Alistair."

"He _was_ the senior warden, after Riordan failed."

"_If_ Riordan failed."

He ignored that. "It should have been Alistair's honor to kill the Archdemon. Why was it not?"

I shrugged. "I was closer. I thought that ending the Blight was a bit more important than worrying who had a few months seniority. Commander, what _is_ it exactly that you accuse me of doing? I really would like to know. Not that you have any authority over me, of course."

He sighed, "No, I don't and I have no clue what you did, though I am certain the mages in Weisshaupt are trying to guess. And even if I did have such authority, I doubt my own men would obey me in this, such is your reputation," he said wearily. "Nor will I besmirch your honor so much as to provoke a duel; I have no wish to challenge your prowess at arms—of _that_ I have little doubt.."

"Very well. If you will not aid me in understanding what is happening to the Wardens in Orlais, take your damned shield and go. Let Weisshaupt sort it out. Perhaps it will even be a benefit to have both of you. It was thought Alistair might be more tractable by himself, but it occurs to me that perhaps even he isn't fully aware of what happened at the Battle of Fort Drakon." He studied us, looking back and forth between us. "Safe travels, Wardens."


	2. Orlais:  The Rules of the Game

2. ORLAIS, IMPERIAL HIGHWAY: THE RULES OF THE GAME

Alistair and I left our little audience with Yves fuming, but at least we had recovered Alistair's shield. It appeared Leliana had had a more pleasant time than us. We found her drinking a goblet of wine as she regaled a couple of the younger Wardens with tales of the last blight. Quickly noting that neither Alistair nor I appeared to be in a good mood, however, she quickly got ready to take leave of Coteaux du Roche.

"A tense meeting, it seems," Leliana remarked, as we were getting ready to leave. "I suppose he's jealous."

"That might be a part of it…" But only part, and I knew it. The truth was—as much as the man's attitude infuriated me—he was not in the wrong. I_ had_ done something…unconventional and possibly dangerous to end the Blight.

"I found it interesting that Yves pretended not to know me," she remarked.

"Really? How do you know him?"

"We crossed…paths when I was working for Marjolaine. I didn't know he was a Warden, though."

I helped Alistair up into his carriage. The Imperial highway was just wide enough for Leliana and I to ride side by side on horseback with Alistair in his carriage to my right, so we were able to talk as we rode.

Glancing behind us at the keep, I asked Leliana, "Are even the Wardens involved in the Game here?"

"Everyone of any consequence in Orlais is in the game. Even you and Alistair."

"Me?" said Alistair.

"We did not come to play games."

She shrugged. "Like it or not, you're already a piece on the board. Anyone with contacts in Sybille's household will know that you had dinner with her the other night. Those who have contacts in the Wardens will soon know that you and Alistair were here. And if you settle in for a while at the Palais de Montfleurie, it will be very good for Sybille. I am certain many will wish to visit and see you—you're quite famous, you know, even in Orlais."

I didn't think I liked the sound of this. "Maker, this sounds worse than Anora's state dinners in Denerim. Am I to be hounded by a series of unwanted guests all the time? Perhaps we could just find a room at an inn somewhere, instead."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm rather looking forward to Leliana having you dressed like a prize peacock so you can strut your stuff," put in Alistair.

"No, no, no, no," said Leliana. "If she invites everybody in, your cachet will diminish rapidly. A better strategy is to only invite people she particularly wants to curry favor with. It's far better if it appears that you don't want your presence in the city to be widely known."

"Well, I don't, though it seems it will be anyway," I said, exasperated. "But what's the value in that?"

"It will encourage people to speculate on why you're here. Perhaps there will be rumors that Sybille is having an affair with one or both of you."

"What?" exclaimed Alistair.

"Oh, of course, she doesn't plan to seduce you."

"Good thing, unless she's prepared for a very prolonged siege." I remarked. "Did I ever tell you how many months it took me just to get a kiss?"

"Ah, but that was before you corrupted me, Aedan." Alistair winked at me.

"Still, a rumor of it would be highly advantageous. Certainly few would dare insult her, if they thought they might be challenged by Alistair. And it would entice other suitors, who might be useful."

Her enthusiasm was beginning to alarm me. "Sorry…did you just say that if Alistair were rumored to be bedding Sybille that would _entice_ other suitors? In the maker's name, _why?"_

She shook her head. "You really don't understand how things work here, do you? Oh well, you're a smart fellow, you'll figure things out." Seeing the expression on my face, she changed tack. "Sorry, Aedan, I did not mean to give the impression that Sybille only had you over for dinner to use you. She really did want to meet you. She _is_ my friend, as are you both. It's just that you need to realize that in Orlais, _everything _relates to the game, whether we intend it or not. Simply by being here, you make ripples in the pond."

Later, as we ate dinner at an inn, Leliana remarked, ""Aedan—I've been thinking about writing a song about the Blight"

"I suppose it will add to the prestige of the Montfleurie household," I said sourly. "Besides, I thought you told Morrigan at Redcliffe you didn't want to write songs about suffering and death…"

"Well…maybe Morrigan was right It was a great victory in the end, and there are lessons to be learned from how it was achieved. And it's really not about the Game, at least, no more than anything else is."

"So go to it. You certainly have more material to work with than any of the other bards in Orlais. You were there for the whole thing." At least I would probably be able to recognize myself in her epic, unlike so many versions I have heard.

"I wasn't there for _everything"_ she said with a sidelong glance at Alistair. "Some things I can only guess at from the sounds emerging from your tent." Alistair turned the color of the rose he had given me at the campfire, all those nights ago.

I laughed. "Well, songs about my nightly exploits with Alistair will certainly be a novel approach to the material. I look forward to hearing them."

"But really—what struck me as I began to write is that I feel I do not know the hero of my tale as well as I should. We all shared our stories with you, but I never really learned much about your past. I understand why it was hard for you to talk about at the time, but…I was hoping that now…you've had some time to heal..."

"There's no great mystery about my past. I was the second son of one of the most powerful men in Ferelden and lived at the castle in Highever for my first twenty years and then…well, you know what happened." I shrugged. "Besides, as much as I hated the man, Loghain was not wrong when he said that he had forged me. The man you know was made by Howe, and Loghain, and the Blight…and Alistair." I said, my voice softening at the end. "Bryce Cousland's son…is gone."

She shook her head vigorously. "The past is never gone, it stays with us always. The great heroes of history are still with us, even if we have forgotten them. They made our world and their echoes are everywhere. How was Bryce Couslands strong enough to be forged instead of broken? Most people would have broken. _I _would have broken."

"You misjudge yourself, Leli," I murmured.

She wagged her finger at me. "Oh, no, we're not going to have another conversation about me."

"I didn't break because of you and Alistair and the rest of our companions. I had something that had to be done and other people to push me into doing it. Anyone would have done the same in my position."

"I don't believe that and even if it were true, I still want to know…how you came to be who you are."

I raised my hands in surrender and sighed. "Very well. But I don't know how to begin to answer such a question. Perhaps could ask something specific?"

"You could begin by telling me how you learned to fight. I was surprised by your…style when I first fought at your side in Lothering." Her brow furrowed. "Perhaps Ferelden is different but in Orlais, noblemen don't…"

"Fight like thieves from the back alleys of Denerim?" I suggested.

"Or Antiva…" put in Alistair.

"I was trying to put it more tactfully, but, yes."

"Well, I suppose I could tell you a little about my early training." And so it began, the first of many nights of storytelling….


	3. Memories:  Childhood

3. MEMORIES: CHILDHOOD

"I was a timid child. No, really…stop laughing! I _told_ you who I am now has little to do with Bryce Cousland's son. Maker, why did I agree to this.

The thing is, I was always small for my age. Even now, I am not tall and while I filled out as an adult, I am still nearer Leli in size and strength than Alistair. And as a child, I was thin. Like many small boys, I was picked on and bullied by the others. It's a familiar enough story.

Yes, I can see why you would be surprised that bullying of the Teyrn's son would be allowed. To understand that, you need to understand Bryce Cousland's mindset. He did not want to raise his children to be the sort of awful spoiled brats so many noble sons are, their heads swollen with the knowledge of their grand heritage. And so, I was trained and educated with the other boys of the castle, the sons of the guards and men-at-arms. I was not to be shown any special favor. It's not that I wasn't to believe I was better than them—oh, you have to know I was told over and over that I was a _Cousland_. But my innate superiority should show itself through my behavior; I was not to expect anyone to defer to me, just because of who I was. I can't say that I really disagree with this philosophy, but—boys will be boys, as they say—it did mean that I had a rough time of it sometimes.

For the most part, I dealt with this by running away and hiding. I was small, but I was always fast. I could usually outrun the boys two or three years older than me, let alone the ones my own age. And hiding—oh, I was good at hiding. I knew every inch of Castle Cousland, every nook and cranny that a child—and remember that I was a _small_ child—could squeeze into, I had investigated. Some of them were deliberately designed as secret passages, others were weaknesses in the old masonry where water had got in and enlarged cracks.

Fergus? Oh, I can see why you would think that. No, Fergus did not bully me…most of the time, because Father wouldn't allow that. Other boys my age, yes, that would toughen me up, get me to prove myself. But neither was Fergus my protector, as is sometimes the case with older brothers. And for that, I fear, I had only myself to blame.

You see, I had a mischievous side as a child…and a clever tongue that enabled me to get myself out of trouble. Which meant that poor Fergus was constantly getting blamed for my pranks. Who fed the new batch of ale to the mabari hounds, getting them all drunk the day of the annual great hunt? Fergus. Who spiked the soup with madder root dyeing it a glorious shade of rose pink when the royal family was visiting for dinner? Fergus. How he must have hated me—it's a wonder he's forgiven me now.

Meanwhile, I was thought to be a quiet child, shy, timid, studious. Much of the time that I was supposedly in my room reading, I was not even in the castle, having found a passage within the walls that could get me as far as the entrance hall from my bedroom. From there, it was easy enough to distract the guards with something—toss a coin in the opposite direction that would get the hounds yelping, for example—long enough for me to scurry out into the courtyard. I could creep through the hedges—remember I _was_ small—and I had found a place where I could scale the outer wall while remaining concealed by a gnarled old tree.

It was fortunate that I retained enough of what I read when I actually _did_ study that I was able to sustain the reputation for being a student of history. In reality, I enjoyed the tales of exotic places and the more romanticized historical accounts, but the Chant of Light bored me, as did the drier (and likely more accurate) histories of Andraste's life. I suppose I was fortunate that my father did not take my supposed scholarly bent as a sign that I should be given to the Chantry. It's a common enough pattern after all—first son inherits the family titles, second son to the Templars. What a catastrophe that would have been! Fortunately, Father had enough lands that he was not overly worried about dividing the family inheritance. When I was deemed old and responsible enough to manage my own lands, I would receive a fief and be a vassal of Fergus.

Of course, as a Bann, I would be required to fight to protect the citizens of my village from bandits. So it was necessary for me—as it is for every noble's son—to learn to fight. And here Bryce Cousland's designs went terribly awry. Noting that I was small and weak, he was determined that I grow stronger. I was outfitted in the heaviest of chainmail, so heavy I could scarcely move, let alone fight. And I was trained in the use of two-handed weapons—can you imagine me fighting with a claymore? Well, until I was sixteen years old, that was my weapon of choice.

In all fairness, I'm sure I _did_ grow stronger as a result of lumbering around in heavy armor and flailing about with that claymore. But struggling with the weight prevented me from really ever learning good technique. And I was not accustomed to failure—I was a skilled rider, a strong swimmer, a clever (if less dedicated than supposed) student of languages and history. But I was a poor fighter, and because I was poor at it, I hated it. Honestly, though I rather obviously gained a bit of skill in fighting since then, it's still not something that gives me any real pleasure. I'm not just talking about not enjoying fighting for my life. I don't even like sparring very much; it's just something I do because my life has given me little choice but to maintain those skills. It's been a very strange path through life, certainly nothing like what I envisioned as a child or what my father had in mind.

How did I imagine my future life? Well, to be honest, I supposed I would be stuck _doing my duty_, like a proper Cousland. Which likely meant living in a castle in some dreary village in northern Ferelden, marrying the daughter of some Arl or other, and raising children to do their duty in their turn.

I wanted to travel, a desire that grew stronger still when Fergus married Oriana, who told me many tales of far away, exotic Antiva. Marriage and raising children did not attract me. I had little interest in girls—not so unusual at 12, but more surprising by 14 or 15—though I had no understanding of why that might be, not yet.

Whenever I could, I slipped out of the castle into town. I could not really wander freely without being recognized of course, even though I would uh…borrow clothing from the servant's children. I was fascinated by the glimpses of town life that I managed, however, and sometimes dreamed of running away—although I certainly knew that my life was privileged beyond belief. Still, something that you cannot have is always enticing, even when you know you would be a fool to trade what you have to get it.

It became harder to slip away after a little adventure I had where I encountered a traveling group of players rehearsing a show. Since they were from out of town, they had no notion of who I was, and I managed to persuade them to let me watch and even participate in the rehearsal to a degree. It was enchanting…imagine being able to spend life pretending to be other people, dressing up in strange costumes, doing new roles all the time! In another life, I might well have become a performer. They actually told me I could appear in a small role on stage, though I suspect they were merely humoring me. I did get dressed up along with some of the other children in the cast, however, and learned a few lines.

Unfortunately, guests had arrived at Castle Cousland in the meantime and the fact I was not—as had been supposed—quietly reading in my room. At first my poor mother feared I had been somehow kidnapped, but they soon determined that I must have used the passage to escape the castle and soon the castle guards were all over the town looking for me.

They eventually found me at the players' camp just outside the town gates, dressed as a little girl—players often use boys for female roles—and spouting some nonsensical lines from an Orlesian drama. Needless to say, Father was furious on a number of counts. The poor players had to leave Highever without even getting to perform, though it was hardly their fault. After that, my parents and Nan kept a rather closer watch on me than before, and the passage from my bedroom to the entrance hall was sealed. A pity that last, as it would have been useful when Howe attacked.

And so my life went for its first sixteen years…a quiet boy, clever, perhaps more adventurous and less dutiful than he appeared, without much aptitude or inclination for the martial skills that define the pecking order for young men. Then one day, as I was making another desultory pass at practicing my swordsmanship with my claymore, a young mercenary named Iain was watching me. He had been hired by my father to act as a scout, and something of a spy. Although Ferelden is nowhere near as riddled with intrigue as Orlais, Father did need to keep an eye on what was going on in Highever.

Iain was clearly entertained by what he was seeing…in fact, I daresay he was near breaking up with laughter. Needless to say, when I became aware of his amusement, I was furious. Iain explained that his mirth was not because I was inept, but because my training had been so misguided. The heavy armor and weapons had succeeded in completely neutralizing my natural talents: speed and coordination. He told me to shuck the armor and he would teach me techniques that would enable me to easily best my bigger and stronger opponents.

Iain taught me for a few other things as well, but it grows late, and I think we shall have to save that part of the story for another day.


	4. A Roadside Inn:  Dreams and Revelations

4. A ROADSIDE INN: DREAMS AND REVELATIONS

That night, I dreamed that I was a small boy again, running through Castle Cousland with a bigger boy chasing me. I was faster than him and I reached the library well ahead, touched the panel that swung the bookcase away from the wall, crept into the passage behind it and pulled it back concealing me. I could hear the thundering footsteps of the other boy now, his panting as he looked around for me. He ran on and I waited in the darkness of the narrow, cobweb-filled passage between the walls.

I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned around, nearly shrieking in surprise. Before me was a small, dark-haired girl…the girl I had seen in my dream before. A beautiful child, it suddenly occurred to me, almost luminous. She placed a finger to her lips to hush me and beckoned for me to follow her. I walked down passages I had never seen before Then she stood at the end of the passage waiting for me. I walked past her and pushed open the panel, and emerged into the pantry the night of Howe's attack. My father dying in my mothers arms…

I woke with a spasm and a small cry. Alistair stirred beside me and turned, putting his strong arms around me. "Hey…it's okay." He held me for a moment until my breathing had returned to normal. I fumbled for the tinderbox on the nightstand and lit a candle. We would always lie awake together for a while at such times; I honestly don't know how Grey Wardens without companions cope with the nightmares. I lay back, admiring the shadows moving over the hard muscles of his torso in the flickering candlelight.

"I should put another poultice on those bruises," I said, noting the angry colors where his ribs were healing. He lay there as I worked the soothing medicine into his flesh.

After I finished, he asked, "Did you dream of her, this time?"

"Yes…I lied to Yves. I dreamed of her the first night I was in Val Royeaux. This is my second time." I swallowed.

"You lied?" He inclined his head and gave me a curious look.

"I think you've heard me lie before."

"Yes, but…does this have something to do with…what he thought it did? Are you ever going to tell me about how Morrigan saved you from the Archdemon?"

I swallowed. I had been dreading this question for five years. I had always felt that Alistair's love for me was based in no small measure on hero worship and that if he learned I was not the hero he saw me as…I knew that it was time to explain, but I couldn't resist stalling. "What makes you so suddenly curious after all these years?"

"Well, I know you told me that I didn't want to know, but something about being called off to Weisshaupt…and the Warden Commander of Orlais practically accusing you of being a traitor to the Wardens-I wanted to kill him, you know—and you lying to him, it's made me…curious"

"I know….I should have told you a long time ago, should have told you before I agreed to Morrigan's plan but…I was afraid. You know, when we first fell in love, Wynne counseled me that it was a bad idea for Wardens to love, that love was selfish and might get in the way of my duty as a Warden. I was angry with her, then…"

"Morrigan said much the same to me once. Not as nicely, of course."

"Did she? That's ironic."

"Why ironic?'

"If I hadn't been in love, she would never have gotten what she asked for. I didn't have much to live for, other than you…losing my life to stop the Blight would have seemed like no large thing. Or maybe you would have persuaded me to let you die. But I wanted to live because of you, and I couldn't face the thought of living without you…and so…I may have done a terrible thing."

"Are you saying you regret…what you did?"

I shook my head. "No…no…Maker forgive me but even if I've damned Thedas to destruction, it was worth it for these precious years with you." I stroked his cheek. I murmured, "Wynne was right. You see, the child you're seeing in the dreams since we've come to Orlais…it's Morrigan's child. My daughter."

He laughed. "Oh, that's a good one. Serves me right, deflecting questions with jokes all these years. You are joking, right…" A pause. "You're not joking." I shook my head. "A child? With Morrigan. How…?"

"I thought you told Wynne you understood where babies came from. It wasn't that difficult, I put my.,."

He colored. "That's not what I meant! I never knew that you and Morrigan…was this before you and me…?"

"No. It was the last night in Redcliffe, before the army marched, that Morrigan came to me. I guess technically, I was unfaithful—the one and only time—but I was thinking of you the whole time. I did it for us, though I should have told you…"

"But why did Morrigan want your child? She never struck me as the motherly type. And what does this have to do with the Archdemon?"

I sighed. "Everything. Everything. Morrigan performed a magical ritual so that when the Archdemon died and it found a new host, instead of finding me or a Darkspawn, the Old God would find her unborn child instead. Somehow, the ritual was supposed to pass on the part of the old god's soul that we carry with us, without passing on the taint. To free it of the taint, as it were."

He pulled away, suddenly shocked. "You made a child to be possessed by the Archdemon? Wouldn't it die, like us?"

I shook my head vigorously. "Not the archdemon, the old god. Morrigan says that if the child is young enough, its soul could merge with the old god. Anyway, it didn't die. You've seen it in your dreams, and it doesn't feel like the Archdemon, does it?"

"No, you're right…it feels…different. It's not the same as during the Blight. But why would Morrigan want such a thing? What will it be?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. She wouldn't tell me, or doesn't fully know herself. If the chantry is to be believed, letting loose an old god into the world is a dreadful thing. Morrigan sees it differently."

"Do you trust her?"

"I—well, she would not want another Blight. And I do think that she was traveling with us, that she learned to care about other people, at least a little. But I—I really don't know. I probably should have just…died like the other Grey Wardens. Can you forgive me?" I looked into his eyes, pleading for his understanding. "I just couldn't give you up."

He was silent for a time. "Aedan, I have followed you for six years and you have never failed me. I have to trust your heart. If I can't trust that, I have nothing. But if this…old god child becomes a danger, we'll have to deal with it. I wouldn't normally recommend killing a child, but…"

His words startled me out of my thoughts. "You've said those words before, you know. And we found another way, then…but anyway, it—_she_—doesn't seem to be doing any harm, at least not that we know of, not yet." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, "If it comes to pass that she is an evil that must be stopped, then it is mine to do. I let her into the world and, if necessary, I will see her out…and die a true Grey Warden's death. If that's the only way."

"Aedan, " he said softly, gathering me into his arms. "There can be no truer Grey Warden than you, no truer man." I knew it wasn't true but it felt good to hear him say it anyway. "Never doubt it, my love. And I would gladly die in your stead…but you know that. But when we go to Weisshaupt, when we tell them this…you think they will want to kill her?"

I nodded slowly. "I think so, yes. Even though there's no blight, I think they will see her as a threat. They ordered you to come to Weisshaupt rather than simply send messengers to ask questions of us in Amaranthine, which means—I think—that they are prepared to take action. This is not a friendly inquiry, _if _we go to Weisshaupt we will be facing an interrogation. And I—she's just a little girl, Alistair. More, she's _my_ child, the only one I will ever have…"

"What I don't understand is why it's only here in Orlais that the Wardens are dreaming of this child. I had some strange dreams in Ferelden but nothing like this. Why here? What do the dreams mean? Alistair, I think we should not go on to Weisshaupt, not until we understand what's happening here. I want to know more about what this little girl might be. I would try to find Morrigan, but I have no idea how to even begin looking." I shook my head. "Let's talk about his more, tomorrow. We need to plan…maybe we can learn something from the dreams."


	5. The Palais de Montfleurie: A Fine Meal

**5. THE PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: A FINE MEAL**

We returned to Val Royeaux a few days later in the early evening. Sybille greeted us warmly, "I see you successfully found the other Warden."

It had always irritated me that Alistair seemed permanently cast in my shadow as the other Warden, as though an appendage of me. However, he seemed not to mind, so I did not make an issue of it. "My lady, may I introduce my dearest companion, Alistair. Alistair, may I present the Comtesse Sybille de Montfleurie"

"Forgive me if I do not bow deeply, my lady, I met up with some bandits on the road and some of my ribs were broken."

Leliana added, "My friends are planning to stay in Val Royeaux until Alistair is fully healed. I hope I have not overstepped my bounds by offering to host them here."

"Not at all, my dear," replied Sybille. "Stay as long as you like. I can easily accommodate two honored guests."

"I am not really so badly hurt as all that, but Aedan believes me to be a fragile and delicate flower."

I laughed at that. "Hardly. I well know how nearly indestructible you are. However, we have many weeks of riding ahead of us and I see no reason for you to suffer pain all the way that could be alleviated by a short rest. And after speaking with the Warden Commander of Orlais, I feel that I would like to spend some time…investigating what we discussed."

"You will need only one room, yes? " We nodded in unison. Sybille signaled to her elven servant, "Elionore, please show Aedan and Alistair to the guest room on the ground floor and draw a bath for them, as well." She returned her attention to us, "It is a smaller guest room, but I thought it would be better if Alistair did not need to climb the stairs. When you have made yourselves comfortable, please join me and Leliana in the dining room."

Some time later, cleaned and refresh, Alistair and I entered the dining room where Leliana and Sybille were seated at a long polished wooden table. As we entered, Sybille was saying, "Oh—while you were away, Yolande intercepted a message between the Marquis de Nimieres and the Duc de Val Foret."

Leliana nodded. "I do hope she made certain it reached the Duc."

"Of course. She made a copy then resealed it with the fake seal…it should pass, if not inspected too closely. You have trained her well. The message appears harmless, but there might be something hidden in it that I do not see…"

"I will have a look at it later this evening."

Sybille looked up at Alistair and me. "Please sit down and have a goblet of wine with us."

I picked up the glass and was surprised to see that the wine was foaming.

Sybille laughed. "_Vin mousseux,"_ she explained. "It's a specialty of my estates in Montfleurie. I'm not quite sure why, but the wines there always do this after a winter in the cellars. We actually had the Templars sniffing about, thinking that we had some apostate mages casting spells on our wine."

"Do you always live here in Val Royeaux? Do you not have to look after your people in Montfleurie?" While the great houses in Ferelden all maintained residences in Denerim, they spent most of their time at their castles.

She shrugged. "I have a steward who looks after the estates for me. Perhaps things are different in wild Ferelden, but here in Orlais, the greater dangers to guard against lie at court."

A servant brought out a basket of steaming fresh bread, soft, mild cheese, and an onion soup while we enjoyed our wine. Sybille turned to Alistair, "Is it true that you are Maric's son?"

"Yes—though I renounced any claim to the throne before the Landsmeet when Anora was chosen to rule."

Sybille continued to probe. "From what I have heard, Aedan held the Landsmeet in his hand. Yet he chose not to put you on the throne?"

"I was selfish," I said. "I did not want to share him with the rest of Ferelden."

A slight smile from Alistair. "More likely, he just recognized what a dreadful king I would be."

I shook my head. "Alistair, I truly believe that you would have been a fine king, given the opportunity. You misjudge your own abilities."

"You know what I said in Lothering about putting me in charge of things and winding up stranded somewhere without any pants."

"But I _like_ you without pants." Everyone laughed. "Seriously, though, it really wasn't because I doubted Alistair's ability to do the job. I just felt that it would look like too much of an interference in Ferelden's politics to put a Warden on the throne, and that placing Anora there might mollify some of Loghain's supporters."

Sybille nodded. "Ah, so a calculated move then." She studied me for a moment. "You might do well here in Orlais."

I shrugged. "I even thought of convincing you to marry Anora."

Alistair made a face. "Maker, I'm glad you did not push that idea."

"Well, I do feel your basic generosity and sense of justice might counter some of Anora's more ruthless ways…but I suppose she's done well enough. But in the end, I placed her on the throne, for better or for worse…and I kept Alistair by my side with the Wardens. For which I am forever grateful."

The servants brought out a roasted pheasant on a bed of garlic-flavored vegetables. Alistair asked, "Speaking of the Wardens…do the Grey Wardens have a liaison at the imperial court?" Alistair and I had discussed our need to understand the dreams better and had decided that we might need to seek help from an Orlesian warden who had been experiencing them for longer.

Sybille's brow furrowed. "Yes, I believe there is, a Nevarran. Do you remember his name, Leliana?"

"Enrique de Alianca," she replied and considered for a moment. "I think he bleaches his hair."

"Is that common here?" I asked.

"Among men, no." Leliana put one finger to a chin. "I wonder if he has some reason to hide from his past."

"It would not be so unusual among Wardens." I glanced at Alistair. "If you have a chance, perhaps you could learn a bit more about him. At the very least, I would like to know how loyal he is to Yves and if we can learn something…compromising about him, as well, that's all to the good." Alistair frowned slightly at my last comment, but said nothing.

"I will see what I can do. But you didn't quite complete your story the other night. You started to tell us about this Iain, who taught you to fight."

I laughed. "Ah, so that's the price of learning more about Enrique de Alianca, is it? Very well then." The servants came in once again, this time carrying a plate of pastries and a flask of sweet golden wine, and I resumed my story.


	6. Memories: The Noble Rogue

MEMORIES: THE NOBLE ROGUE

"As I hinted the other day, it was Iain who taught me to fight as I do. At first, because he was effectively usurping the Cousland Armsmaster's role, he taught me in secret. We would meet late at night and fight in odd places in the castle that were off the guard's patrols. I was still spending far more time flailing about with my claymore each morning, but I worked far harder in my nightly sparring with Iain, and learned far more.

The first thing I learned—the first thing anybody learns when fighting without armor—was how to avoid being hit. Iain started fighting me with ironwood sticks intended to be the same weight and length as daggers, but when you're wearing ordinary clothing, being poked by a stick with a man's weight behind it is a painful lesson. It did not take long for me to learn to elude the obvious thrusts, for though he was bigger and stronger than me, I was faster from the start. After that, he began to show me variations and how to use my sticks to parry. Once he found a trick that I did not have a counter for, he would keep doing it until I learned to avoid it, repeatedly bruising me in the same places in the process. Fortunately, I was a swift learner.

I also learned that fighting with daggers forces you to move much closer to your opponent. While this can be seen as a disadvantage, it makes it easier to strike precisely at the weak points in armor, and the blades are not the only things with which you can attack. I learned to make weapons of my elbows, knees, feet, and even my head. At first, I was reluctant to master such techniques, thinking them base and dishonorable. But Iain laughed at my scruples, telling me to leave honor for tournaments. Real warriors, he said, did whatever was needed to win, or they died. He encouraged me to learn to fight like a survivor.

Soon I had progressed to blunted steel weapons and begun to learn to attack with two daggers as well as defend. It did not take me long to realize that I was becoming good at this style of fighting. In fact, after four or five months I was more effective with daggers than with the claymore that I had been struggling to master for years. Sometimes Iain would bring one of his friends to fight as well, to demonstrate ways of dealing with two opponents at once, sometimes even tricking them into hitting one another.

It was inevitable that we would be discovered, and one evening Fergus came upon us. I suppose he must have heard the clatter of steel from a distance and come to investigate. He scoffed at the way I was learning to fight and challenged me with the blunted training steel. Fergus picked up the longsword Iain had been using to teach me how to deal with opponents wielding longer weapons; he had his shield and mail.

He must have expected a quick, easy, and humiliating victory, for I had been strikingly inept whenever he had seen me fight before. We had never actually crossed swords, because his skill had always been far greater than mine. At first, I concentrated on eluding his blows, parrying, dodging, bobbing and weaving. His frustration grew, which gave me great pleasure. Iain had taught me that one could often defeat a more heavily armored opponent by retreating from his every blow until he tired.

But Fergus was at the peak of his youthful strength and stamina then, and he would not tire, though he did grow frustrated. Still, he very nearly had me when I struck out with my left hand dagger, thinking to parry a feint, exposing my right side to his shield. Fergus was angry then, and determined to teach his little brother a lesson, even at the cost of breaking a bone or two with the heavy shield. I reacted in the only way I could, bringing my right knee hard up under his hauberk into his groin. He doubled over in pain and his shield failed to connect with my shoulder. I had beaten him.

The next day, Fergus told my father about my new style of fighting. I defied Father, saying that I had no intention of giving up fighting the only way I could win. At first, he was skeptical, thinking that I had been lucky to have defeated Fergus with a trick, but I demonstrated my skill against some of the other boys who routinely beat me when I was fighting with a claymore. At last, Father relented. If he was to have a son who would be an embarrassment in combat, at least I would be an embarrassment that could defend myself and my lands. I still suspect that Bryce Cousland rolled over in his grave when I applied poison to my weapons in a duel before the Landsmeet.

Oriana helped to patch things over—or tried to, at least—by pointing out that it was very fashionable in Antiva for gentlemen to fight with a rapier in their right hand and a dagger in their left. She bought me an elegant dagger with a special hand guard, designed for parrying. They call it a _main-gauche_ in Orlais. A rapier is light enough that, while longer than a dagger, it was still easy for me to handle, and I fought in the Antivan style for some time. If I could find a rapier and _main-gauche_ of comparable quality to my daggers, I might fight that way again. I still have a tendency to block more often than strike with my left hand. It's a slight stylistic flaw, but fortunately my opponents rarely live long enough to learn to exploit it.

Iain received scant thanks for teaching me to fight. His contract was not renewed the following year, so I trained with him for only a year and a half, by which time I was seventeen. Father never explained why he no longer employed Iain. Perhaps he still boiled over his teaching me to fight so ignobly, perhaps it had nothing to do with me…or perhaps he had learned that Iain had taught me other things than how to use daggers.

For Iain was my first lamppost…"

"Lamppost?" asked Leliana as Alistair began to laugh. She raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. Sybille's gaze travelled back and forth between my face to Alistair's, equally baffled.

"A private joke. I think it was when we were in Redcliffe or perhaps on our way to the Circle Tower. At any rate, it was when I was just beginning to get to know Alistair and it occurred to me that since he was just six months out of the chantry, he might have had little or no experience. When I began to ask, have you never…?"

Alistair chimed in, "I replied 'Never what? Had a good pair of shoes? Seen a basilisk? Eaten jellied ham? Licked a lamppost in winter?'"

I smiled at the memory. "I must say, I wondered at your choice of image on the last one. It made me suspect were less innocent than you appeared. After all, despite their vows, I would guess that relationships between templars are not so uncommon, given that they are nearly all men."

"That was _so_ not what I was thinking. I really had not given much thought to how men might…pleasure each other."

"No? Well, when I replied that I had 'licked my quota of lampposts and then some', licking my lips emphasis-though it was really an exaggeration-you certainly became flustered enough." Leliana and Sybille giggled.

"Yes, well, I guess I was struck by the…oddity of the image at that point."

"Be that as it may, even though it was not winter when I finally licked this particular lamppost, I seem to have become stuck to it." I leaned over and kissed Alistair lightly on the cheek.

"But to return to my tale, Iain was, in fact, my first. As I commented before, I had never felt a strong interest in girls, but when I began working closely with Iain every night, desire stirred in me. I did not know exactly what it meant, but I wanted to be…close to him. And one evening, we went for a swim and it happened.

Was it love? No, Leli, I would not have called it that. We weren't planning a life together; how could we? I was a Cousland, my destiny was set in stone like the castes in Orzammar and living with a male commoner could not be part of it. And while Iain was my mentor and not unkind to me, he was a hard man, embittered by experience. It seems funny to talk of another man being hard now, given the things that I have done, but I was a young man who had lived a sheltered life. Iain was the son of a Ferelden lord who had fought for the Orlesians; his father had been killed when he was a baby and his family stripped of its title. His mother had changed the family name and sold what little jewelery she had to get weapons and a modicum of training for her son, but Iain still felt cheated. Although he was fond of me, there was an undercurrent of resentment because he felt that he, too, should have been entitled to the privileges I enjoyed.

Looking back, I think I used him, though I did not think of it that way at the time. I knew he was furious with himself for getting involved with his lord's son, fearing Bryce Cousland's anger. But at the same time, he must have been conscious of the fact that I could probably have him dismissed if I chose. So when I wheedled him for more—young men at that age think of little else—no doubt he felt pressured to continue, even though I never threatened him. I don't even know if Father ever knew or suspected, but I think Fergus did.

The reason I say that is that it was around this time that Fergus seemed to push me into the company of some of the young gentry of Highever who were particularly fond of "wenching" expeditions in town. Not that Fergus himself participated; he was married to Oriana by this time and would not dishonor her. But he certainly encouraged me to go to town and "sow my oats". And so I went to the whorehouses with the others, chose my girls and did my best with them. I was able to perform adequately in a physical sense, I suppose, but somehow none of them excited me in the same way as Iain's firm lean body and hairy chest.

And then, at the end of the year, without any explanation from Father, Iain was released from service. I am not sure where he went after that. Perhaps it is just as well, as he would likely have been killed with the rest when Howe attacked. I suppose he might well have died anyway that year, as so many did at Ostagar or in defense of Denerim, though I never saw him in either place. I have not sought him out. It would be…awkward. Besides, if he had felt a need to see me, he could easily have found me.

Still, it is Iain who trained me, and who I have to thank for the fact that I survived Howe's attack and had sufficient skill to attract Duncan's notice. But it grows late and I do not have the stomach to talk about that tonight."


	7. Palais de Montfleurie: Made to Measure

**THE PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: MADE TO MEASURE**

"So…what was your dream about…my daughter like? You've still only had the one?"

I was relaxing with Alistair in Sybille's guest room. I wondered how long it had been since we had been able to simply spend a day together without any duties to deal with. It reminded me of the months after the Blight, before we went to Amaranthine to work on rebuilding the Ferelden Wardens.

Alistair nodded. "So far. It was when I stayed the night at an inn in Val Foret. In the dream, I saw a cute little dark-haired girl walking along a stream that ran through the dense shade of willow trees. Every so often she would bend down and pick something up; at first, I thought she was gathering wildflowers. But as I got nearer—and I felt drawn to her, like I had to come nearer—I saw that she was gathering magic herbs, elfroot, deathroot…and then she looked up and _saw_ me…"

I watched him closely as he paused "Yes, and did she say anything?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, first she smiled and I thought…I thought my heart would melt."

"You've always adored children, Alistair." I murmured.

"Not like this…maybe it was because…it didn't occur to me at the time, but her smile is much like yours. She has Morrigan's hair and eyes, but she smiles like you. Anyway, then she pointed at me and gave a little giggle and lifted a finger to her lips, as if telling me to be quiet. And then," he shrugged, "I woke up. And I felt so tense, almost like I had dreamed of the Archdemon and I could not understand why…I'm used to people pointing and laughing at me in real life, why should it bother me in a dream?"

I chuckled. "Hmm. So in both of our first dreams, we came upon her doing something related to magic…reading some kind of tome in mine, gathering herbs in yours, and then she noticed us. Was it daylight when you had this dream?"

"No, it was the middle of the night, why?"

"Well, I thought maybe in my dream I was having a vision of what she was really doing. But maybe we're sleepwalking into her dreams. I wonder if she knows." I frowned. "Mages…Wynne told me their dreams are not like ours, that they are _awake_ in their dreams." I sighed. "It's a pity Anders or Meghann aren't here, maybe if they dreamed of her they could talk to her."

"There must be some mages at Coteaux du Roche."

I shook my head. "I couldn't trust them with this…"

There was a sharp rap at the door. "I'll see what it's about," I grumbled to Alistair, and got out of bed. I put on a robe, while he covered himself with the bedclothes. "Coming!" I called out.

Leliana was waiting outside. She glanced at my attire and Alistair in the bed. "You've gone back to bed? An exhausting night?" She arched an eyebrow and laughed.

"Alistair is supposed to be resting and I'm…keeping him company." I smiled.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but Sybille's tailor is here to measure you and Alistair."

"Measure us…oh, right." She _had_ mentioned that we needed to get a formal suit of clothes made, but I did not realize that the tailor would be over immediately. "Oh, very well. Give us a few minutes to get dressed."

"Oh…" Leliana remarked as she led us out to the courtyard, "I found out that Enrique, Yves' liaison at court, is from Rivain, not Nevarra. We were confused because he learned Orlesian in Nevarra, so his accent…" She broke off and smiled at Sybille, who was looking at a cart, across which were spread out a number of different garments and scraps of cloth.

She turned to us, "Ah, there you are. This is my tailor, Gorlois—he does all my work for me. He's brought us samples of material he can get from one of the silk merchants in town—all you need do is pick out the materials and pattern of garment, and he will make it to measure.

"Guiraud uses only the best dyes on his silks, none of those that fade in sunlight or wash out in water." Gorlois informed us.

"Can you have clothes made for both of them in four days? I am planning a dinner…"

"For you, Madame Comtesse, I and apprentices will work day and night to make it so."

"You'll want the tunic to be silk at this time of year," remarked Leliana to me, indicating a style she favored for me. "Why not like this, in this shade of blue, to bring out your eyes. Blue is the warden color, yes? And you can have it embroidered with a silver gryphon." She clapped her hands and tilted her head to one side. "The belt should be silver, too…perhaps a cape in the deeper blue…"

"Is the tunic not rather short? Unless it is worn with breeches…" I asked.

"You will be wearing linen hose on your legs of course…that's the fashion now. You surely don't want to wear those leather or wool breeches the men wear in Ferelden; that's far too warm for the summer here."

Meanwhile, Gorlois was advising Alistair.."I think an open collared tunic for monsieur…and perhaps a sleeveless surcoat?" He studied Alistair for a moment, stroking his beard. "We will need to taper it a great deal for your broad shoulders and chest…"

"Yes, said Leliana, "A crimson surcoat and hose for Alistair, with a bright yellow tunic underneath…and gold stitching on the surcoat"

"But Alistair is a Warden, too," I pointed out, recalling her suggestion of blue for me.

"But the red will bring out his color and his hair,"

"It's easy to bring out Alistair's color," I said with a smile.

In part because I wanted to get the process over with quickly, I allowed Leliana to advise us on the selection of our fancy clothes, then we went inside to disrobe to our undergarments so that the tailor could measure us. The fashions in Orlais were much tighter fitting than in Ferelden, and required more precise tailoring. The tailor was painstaking in his measurements, but I supposed that he took pride in his work. Certainly, Sybille seemed to hold him in high regard and she appeared elegantly dressed herself, not that I have much of an eye for such things. While measuring Alistair for hose, Gorlois remarked that "Some men like a padded codpiece but I don't think that will be necessary for you, Monsieur." I chuckled as this comment brought Alistair's color out far more than any clothes ever would.

The measuring done, Gorlois departed, promising to return in four days with our new clothes. "Tomorrow, we'll get some proper shoes for both of you," remarked Leliana. She studied my closely cropped hair. "Have you ever considered growing your hair longer?"

I shrugged. "It's practical and requires no fuss. And I'm afraid I can't grow my hair to my shoulders in four days."

She shook her head. "Only servants in Orlais wear their hair so short." Her eyes lit up. "We could get wigs for you!"

"What?" exclaimed Alistair. "I _like_ my hair."

I held up my hand. "I draw the line at wigs."

"Let them be, Leli. They are foreigners here…and it is hardly likely that anyone will think that I have servants of such build and bearing, or who wear such clothes," said Sybille.

Leliana gave a long sigh. "Very well…but we _do _need to get new shoes for you…and now that I think of it, I could use a new hat…perhaps with green feathers…"

Noting that Leliana was now distracted by thoughts of her own wardrobe, I hurriedly took my leave of her and Sybille. I did not want to give her an opportunity to think of any more improvements to my appearance or Alistair's.


	8. Palais de Montfleurie: An Old Scandal

8. THE PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: AN OLD SCANDAL

The next few days passed pleasantly and uneventfully as Alistair recovered from his injuries and Leliana fussed over finding the perfect shoes for us. On the morning of Sybille's dinner, Gorlois appeared as promised with the two new silk outfits for the Ferelden wardens. Alistair and I went into our room to help each other into the clothes—the tunics had some complicated lacing—and then returned so that Gorlois could inspect them and Leliana admire them. The clothes were soft, cool, and well-tailored, though they fit more snugly than my tunics at home. Gorlois studied us and nodded, pleased.

Leliana clapped her hands. "Perfect! Now, you look like dashing and handsome young _chevaliers_. Though I still think the short hair spoils the effect." She sighed at our stubbornly unfashionable Ferelden ways.

I looked Alistair over. Though finely dressed and certainly dramatic, I thought the crimson and gold a bit gaudy and was glad my own clothes were more restrained. "I like the open collar," I said to Alistair, leaning forward and fingering a golden chest hair.

Sybille came in to inspect us and appeared pleased by what she saw. "And how are you feeling Alistair? You look much better than you did a few days ago." This was true—the dark rings around his eyes had faded and he was walking fully erect without wincing.

"I am quite well, after all of Aedan's ministrations. But I fear if I spend any more time lying in bed and eating at your table, madame, that I will be unable to fit in my armor.

I studied him carefully. "Well, if you're sure, you could start training again…you really are fine? No more headaches or dizzy spells?"

"Aedan, I'm fine. Really."

The servants were making elaborate preparations for the dinner. Though I thought Sybille's regular table service elegant, they were busily polishing a set of silver plates, goblets and bowls with delicate gilt decorations. The tapestries had been carefully dusted and rehung. Friends of Lelianas had been hired to provide music and comic entertainment before dinner.

Although the number of guests at the dinner was not that large, the numbers visiting the palace were swelled by their attendants. Many were preceded by heralds, even Sybille's brother Henri, the Comte de Chateau Blanc, and her liege lord, Gaubert, Duc de Val Foret. In case she forgot who they were, I supposed. I noticed that Gaubert's wife Huguette appeared not overly fond of Leliana, and suspected that the feeling was mutual, though Leliana was a better actress. I recalled that one of Leliana's assistants had intercepted a message intended for the Duc and wondered if Sybille was planning to betray her liege. _Not really my business, I suppose._

There were about twenty guests at the actual dinner; the various hangers on would eat elsewhere in the palace. Most of them were Sybille's approximate peers at court and their spouses, aside from the Duc de Val Foret and the Duc de Val Royeaux, a cousin of Celene. The guests seemed friendly to one another, though I had a sense that there was some friction or at least competition that was being hidden behind polite smiles and small talk. Standing out from the crowd rather in their flowing silk robes and headscarves were the leader of a trade delegation from Rivain and his wife. They seemed slightly bemused to have been given an opportunity to meet privately with so many nobles, but lost no time in touting the exotic dried fruits and fine steel weapons for which Rivain was known, and inquiring about the merchandise produced on the estates of the various guests.

Sybille and her son, who had obviously been coached for the occasion, sat on opposite sides of the table. He said little during the dinner, but formally greeted all the guests and answered questions politely when spoken to. Having sat through formal dinners as a child myself, I felt a pang of sympathy. I was seated across from Leliana, and between Alistair and Hermenionne, the daughter of a Viscomtesse who was one of Sybille's vassals. She was an attractive young girl with wavy brown hair and green eyes and a nervous giggle.

Although I had thought the daily evening meal at Sybille's table elaborate, it was nothing compared to what was laid before us. I lost count of how many courses were provided around twelve, and there were a variety of wines to match the courses….there were soups and salads, breads and cheeses, roasts and shellfish. It would have been impossible to complete every course laid before me. I hoped the servants who had been working long hours for days would be given the leftovers. The final course was a custard mixed with snow and flavored with orange—perhaps a nod to the Riveni- and served with a sweet deep golden wine. _Where does one get snow at this time of year?_ _Magic? Or had it been shipped from the Frostback Mountains?_

Much of the conversation was difficult for me to follow. The two dukes and their wives had recently attended a state dinner that Celene had thrown for the Ambassador from Nevarra. I had thought that they would be probed for information about the mealtime conversation but either that was trivial or no one expected such knowledge to be passed on openly. Instead, the conversation focused on the guest list, the seating arrangement and what Celene had worn. Great significance seemed to be attached to the fact that Celene had worn an ultramarine gown. Its importance lay not in the Empress as a cue for fashion trends—though she certainly was—but in some implied underlying meaning about her intentions toward Nevarra.

Also of great interest was the presence of the Marquis des Marecages, who had been seated opposite the chancellor. While some posited this as an indication that he had been returned to Celene's graces following some scandal or other, Sybille had another explanation. She suggested that the Empress wished to keep a close eye on him, 'if only for his entertainment value.' An appreciative laugh went around the table.

Eventually, conversation turned to me. Having determined that I was not married—apparently my relationship with Alistair was not known or understood by everyone present—the Viscomtesse inquired as to the Orlesian equivalent of an Arl. Silently cursing Sybille for introducing me as Arl of Armaranthine, as well as Warden commander, I explained it was probably similar to a Comte or perhaps a Marquis, but that it would pass to the next Warden Commander not to my heir. Fortunately, she was insufficiently aware of Ferelden to recognize my family name and know that my brother was a Teyrn.

The Riveni had not heard much about the blight, so I gave a short explanation of the events in Ferelden.

"And were you never frightened?" asked Hermenionne, her green eyes going wide with admiration.

I had had this question before and launched into my usual response. "Do you think I'm a madman? Of course, I was frightened. Two inexperienced wardens and a handful of companions trying to fight off a blight while being hunted down by Ferelden's self-proclaimed regent. The whole year was an exercise in sheer terror. It seemed so unlikely that we would defeat the Archdemon, much less all survive. I think I woke up every morning expecting that this would be the day that our luck ran out and we all got ourselves killed." I had not had Leliana around on the occasions when this question had come up, however.

She was shaking her head. "I do not believe you. You must have had faith that we would succeed somehow. How else could you have kept going, kept us all going, if you had despaired?"

I shrugged. "Desperation. I had no other choice. And you all trusted me—Maker knows why!—so I had to try my best to pretend it was not hopeless. But there were so many times when our journey nearly ended…how could I not doubt?"

Leliana looked puzzled. "All those narrow escapes from death were what persuaded me that we would succeed, however difficult the road would be. It was fated, we were _meant_ to succeed, or we would have fallen in the defense of Redcliffe, or against Branka, or at the gates of Denerim. It was the Maker's plan."

"The Chantry tells us the maker has turned away from Thedas," I murmured.

"Well…call it fate or destiny then. It was meant to be. It was like living a great epic story; I simply knew that we could not fail."

I turned back to Hermenionne. "Well, I was frightened, but apparently Leliana was not." Leliana laughed.

Gaubert de Val Foret asked whether I had come to Orlais for the midsummer tournament.

I blinked. "Not at all. Merely to visit an old friend."

"Ah, but you and Ser Alistair should compete and show your mettle for us."

I chuckled. "Jousting is not widely practiced in Ferelden; we do not fight on horseback nearly so much as here."

"Even by gentlemen such as yourselves?"

"No. Besides, as a Warden, I no longer view myself as a nobleman."

Alistair grinned and looked over at Leliana, "I know someone who might clean up in the archery competitions, however."

Leliana shook her head. "I am quite out of practice. I have hardly picked up my bow other than for the occasional hunt in the past few years," she lied, blithely. _The men she killed a few days ago might beg to disagree._

"Ah, well," said the Duke, "If any of you change your mind, I am coordinating the entries. It will be a splendid occasion." I shot Alistair a warning glance—_don't even think about it._

The conversation turned back to various court scandals, causing my mind and Alistair's to wander. And after all the wine, I was feeling sleepy. Perhaps concerned that the Riveni were feeling adrift in the sea of gossip about people who were no more than names to them, Sybille started to ask about the court news there, though it was obvious that most present had little knowledge of the Riveni courtiers.

After a few stories were related, Leliana asked, "Wasn't there something about a young girl named Riquilda a few years back?"

Gerolamo, the trade delegate, gave her a surprised look. "Did that old story about the Villa Alta girl reach Orlais? Rather a sordid tale—must be ten years back now. She was married to the Principe de Llomerryn—that's what the most powerful of the pirate lords calls himself there—and her parents had promised him a maiden. He was so enraged when he found out she had lain with her brother's squire, he beat her to death with his fists."

His wife Sancha added, "Her family put out the story that she had been raped to protect her reputation and were determined to execute the squire. But I don't think anybody really believed it—he was a beautiful young man…Fadrique de Bosquenorte, was that it? Very fair for a Riveni, probably Antivan ancestry. That would account for his dishonorable behavior." Leliana kicked me under the table. _Why did she want me to listen to this awful story, I wondered._

Alistair looked shocked. "What about the Principe? Wasn't he punished for this?"

Sancha sniffed. "By who? It _was_ a bit extreme, but Llomerryn's a wild place." She shrugged.

Leliana prodded them a little further. _She's really interested in this story._ "You said they were determined to execute the squire. Didn't they?"

"Well, that's the odd thing," Gerolamo replied, "He vanished from his cell the night before he was supposed to be hanged. Riquilda's family hunted him, but they never found him. I think they still have a substantial bounty on his head, not that there's much chance of finding him now, I suppose."

Sancha remarked, "I heard that he was in Nevarra a few years later, but he disappeared again, after someone failed to kill him…" With no further kicking from across the table, my attention began to drift off again as the conversation returned to the latest love affairs of the notorious Marquesa de la Marche d'Est.

After the guests had departed and we were preparing to go to bed, Leliana appeared at our doorway. "Enrique de Alianca is the squire from Rivain that disappeared. I am certain of it." Seeing Alistair's puzzlement, she explained, "The liaison from the Wardens to the Orlesian court."

"How can you be sure?"

"I have a contact in a brothel that he visits regularly. He always asks for the same girl—quite a dark girl, maybe Riveni or part-Riveni—and he always calls her Riquilda. Also he obviously learned Orlesian in Nevarra, and is about the right age. It cannot be a coincidence."

I nodded. "Thank you, Leliana. That is very helpful to know."

Alistair wrinkled his nose and gave me a hard look. "You can't be thinking of using this against him, somehow? The poor man."

"Alistair, I don't like doing it, but we need an Orlesian Warden that we can trust. We don't have time to make real friends, and I'm going to have to share a secret with him that we can't have repeated." Leliana arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. "This gives me some leverage."

Alistair frowned, but said nothing.

"Thank you again, Leli."

"Always willing to help…but maybe you could continue telling your story. I've never heard about Howe's attack from you, and I was not at Ostagar, so…"

I took a deep breath. This would be a very hard recounting. "Very well. But it's too late now, and it's…a story I'd rather deal with in daylight, in any case. We'll talk tomorrow."


	9. Memories:  Betrayals

MEMORIES: BETRAYALS

"I wasn't even supposed to be at Ostagar. Father had tasked me with keeping the peace in Highever while our troops were south with the King. I was a little surprised he trusted me with that, to be honest, but I suppose that if the unthinkable happened in the south, he needed someone to safeguard Oren and the family line. Mother was very capable, but an older woman running a teyrn in the name of her grandson in a time of chaos might have appeared vulnerable.

I had become something of a warrior by then, if still an untested one. While I no longer had Iain to train me, I had already been taught most of the moves I use now, though it would take far more experience before I dared to attempt the most complex ones in real battle.

Things had not gone quite according to plan—well, not Father's plan, at least. Father and Fergus had intended to go south with all our forces gathered, but Howe was late and informed us the bulk of his troops would be later still. And so Fergus and the forces already gathered made their way south while father waited behind with Rendan Howe. Howe had not known Duncan would be there, of course…and in retrospect, he had reacted oddly to his presence. He tried to cover up his discomfort with some line about special protocols, as if Wardens cared for such things…would that I had been foresighted enough to guess the real reason Duncan's presence disturbed him.

The only reason I am here to tell you this is Conal, the faithful hound that had come into my life around the time that Iain left it. Without him, I suppose I would have been murdered in my sleep as poor Oriana and Oren were in the room across the hall. But Conal got me out of bed with his barking, though not quite early enough to make a difference…

There is not much to say, really, or at least not in any words that I know. It is to Iain's credit that I remembered what I had been taught instead of freezing in fear when forced to fight for my life. I killed my first man in the hall outside my bedroom, fighting my way to Mother's room. A couple dozen more would taste my blades before the night was through. Mother took up a weapon herself for the first time in years and joined me as we searched for Father.

We were lucky, I suppose, that Howe's best troops were still outside the gates and that we never ran into Howe himself. I have no illusions about how easily he would have defeated me had we met that night. There was no escape out the main gate where the bulk of his army was massing, so the three of us made our way to the servant's entrance, praying that we would find Father there. Which we did…but he was already mortally wounded. Duncan turned up there, as well. Father begged Duncan to take Mother and I to safety, but Mother refused to leave him and he exacted a price to help me escape. The price was me. And so I fled into the night with Duncan, leaving my parents to die.

It seems strange to say, but I think it might have been less painful to part with them if our relationship had been easier. I was young, had chafed at duty all my life, and felt that I was not the child they desired, a disappointment, unlike Fergus. Oh, you're right, and I think I knew that my parents loved me, but I was full of…petty resentment, sensitive to every slight. I never had the opportunity to tell them that I understood that they were trying their best for me and…I don't know. Maybe you never have the time to say the things to people that you love that you need to. I don't know.

Proud of me? I suppose. My father's dying wish was that I do my best for Ferelden; he placed that above seeking revenge for Howe's treachery. They would have been proud of me for my role in ending the blight, I'm sure. But it would have been hard, I think, if Fergus had not lived. I don't know if he could have accepted Alistair if I were the last of the line. Even as things stand, I don't know if they would have welcomed Alistair into our family as Fergus has. No way I will ever know now.

And so, there I was stealing away from my own home like a fugitive in the company of a man I had just met. We did not say much on the way to Ostagar. I wasn't really in the mood for conversation and the Wardens tell recruits very little until they've passed the Joining. Duncan seemed weary and preoccupied, in any case. I suspect he sensed that he did not have much more time…

And, of course, it was at Ostagar that a certain handsome young Grey Warden entered my life. Not that there's anything grey about Alistair, I've always thought of him as my golden Warden.

Love at first sight, Leli? Hardly. I mean, of course, I saw that he was handsome and had a certain curiously appealing awkwardness, and the thought of what his body might look like under all that armor did cross my mind. But I was a wreck at Ostagar, not able to feel much of anything, much less fall in love. I was in such a fog of grief that I apparently met Wynne there, and have no recollection of it, none at all. And besides, it was obvious that Alistair only had eyes for Duncan."

"What? No! I was not in _love_ with Duncan," Alistair protested. "I respected him. He was my mentor…"

I rolled my eyes. "Alistair, you worshiped him. I understand completely. He rescued you from the Chantry's scrap heap, _chose _you, valued you, gave you purpose. Giving meaning to someone's life is a powerful inducement to love. I should know." I touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Besides," I added to Leliana, "Duncan was a very attractive man. I had impure thoughts about him myself."

"It wasn't like that. I never imagined…that, with Duncan. Anyway, I thought you were too much of a wreck at Ostagar to be thinking of such things"

"My dear, I _know_ you were still a maid when I met you," I sighed, as Leliana giggled. "And as for me, I wasn't in any state to fall in love. That doesn't mean I could not feel desire. I had not spent a lifetime learning to ignore my body as you had. I'll grant that that particular discipline has its uses—it's one of the things that makes you so tough in battle—but I think you were in such a habit of repressing your desires, that you couldn't even recognize them for what it were. It's okay." I patted him on the back. "I don't mind not being your first love."

Leaving Alistair spluttering, I elected to continue my story.

"Before I undertook my Joining, I and the other recruits had a task to accomplish first, a sort of proving you might say. You recall those treaties that I used to gain the help of the Dalish, Dwarves and Circle, Leli? Those were actually in an old ruin in the Korcari Wilds near Ostagar, and we went out to retrieve them. Inexplicably, Alistair chose _me _to lead our troop. I can't imagine what you were thinking, my love. Was it because I was a Cousland?

Fearless? I was just too numb to react to much of anything. At any rate, we went into the wilds, and I had my first encounters with Darkspawn. My first sight of what they did to their victims.

I also met Morrigan there, though she didn't join us then. What Duncan didn't know—or at least didn't tell us—was that those old treaties had been removed from the ruins by Flemeth. I rather suspect that Flemeth knew the Wardens would be looking for them soon, and that's why Morrigan was watching the ruins for signs of us.

Yes, Leli, I really do think Flemeth is who she claims to me. I could be wrong, of course, but she certainly is a being of great power and knowledge, not some egotistical hedge witch. Morrigan knew things about the Grey Wardens that even Alistair didn't know. Speaking of which, Alistair and Morrigan hit it off right from the beginning. Alistair was convinced she was going to lead us into a Chasind ambush.

Well, you're right that we had little reason to trust her, but she knew what we were and what we came for. I couldn't see that she had much to gain from killing us; we weren't exactly dripping with diamonds and gold. And all we wanted from her was something that was of no use to her. And so I allowed her to lead us to Flemeth and she gave us the treaties, along with a few vague hints of things to come. She knew that we were Wardens without being told, she warned us that this blight was more dangerous than we knew, told us that Daveth was of no consequence in the greater scheme of things. Of me, she said 'So much about you is uncertain and yet I believe…'. It stuck with me, even though she never completed the thought. We headed back to Ostagar, bringing the treaties with us.

The other recruits? No, they did not die at Ostagar. They…failed the final test to become a Warden. I felt bad about Daveth; I liked him. He was the kind of man I like to recruit myself, the kind of man who deserves a second chance. But sadly, he failed, even as Flemeth seemingly foresaw. I felt bad about Ser Jory, too, but it was a tragic mistake for Duncan to recruit him. A tournament is a poor way to try and recruit wardens. Skill is needed, but a Warden must be prepared to leave his old life behind. For you, Alistair, that was easy; you never wanted to be a Templar. My life had been blown apart; there was nothing to leave. It seems that this Enrique de Alianca is another Warden who began his new life when his old one was shattered; from what you said, I expect it was the Wardens who spirited him out of his cell in Rivain. Ser Jory was not prepared for such a commitment and Duncan should have known.

So I was the only one of the recruits that passed. I was given little time to recover before Alistair and I were called to join the King and Teyrn Loghain at their Council. Bad form as it is to speak ill of the dead, I cannot say that I was very impressed with King Cailan. He was wildly overconfident, barely seeming to take battle seriously. He brushed off Duncan's foreboding and Loghain's warnings. Eamon's forces were said to be only a week away from joining us, and Duncan had been promised still more reinforcements from Orlais. But Cailan was impatient to enter battle now.

Perhaps I judge him too harshly. At dinner last night when I talked about my fears during the blight, I was thinking about Cailan. Could he have been a projecting confidence he didn't feel, to inspire his men? But to me it seemed that what Cailan was projecting was not confidence but a foolish sense of invulnerability. It's one thing to believe you can succeed, quite another to believe you can't fail.

As to Loghain…damn him, I didn't trust him from the beginning. I _knew_ he was hiding something. But I told myself I was jumping at shadows because of what had happened to my Father. He had little respect for Cailan, obviously, but neither did I. He wasn't impressed by the Wardens either, but he was a great legendary hero, the architect of Ferelden's freedom. How could I doubt that he was honorable? And yet, I did. Something felt…wrong. I wish I had trusted my own instincts, tried to warn Duncan, but I'm not sure what good it would have done.

The plan was simple enough. The King was to lead his forces into the valley and engage the Darkspawn, while Loghain's forces remained concealed. Then, after Alistair and I lit the beacon at the top of the tower of Ishual, Loghain was to charge into the flank of the darkspawn horde, surprising them and scattering their forces.

I've often wondered why Cailan chose us to light the beacon, though the rest of the plan was Loghain's. It has occurred to me that maybe he intended Alistair as his successor, should he die in battle, though why I don't know would he expect Alistair to be crowned when he had never been publicly acknowledged, In any event, much like for my Father in Highever, things did not go according to Cailan's plans."


	10. La Dame Vernie:  An Unwilling Assistant

10. LA DAME VERNIE: AN UNWILLING ASSISTANT

Leliana met us in the courtyard at midnight. Sybille's guards said nothing as we went out the gate; apparently, there was nothing remarkable about Leliana leaving the palace late at night. "You will find Enrique at a place called _La Dame Vernie_ near the west docks. He should done with the girl soon."

"A rough place?"

"Not really," she replied as we walked down the Holy Hill, toward the water. "It caters more to merchants and travelers of means, especially those with exotic tastes. They have many foreign girls, and elves."

"Couldn't we meet him somewhere else?" Alistair asked.

"You could," allowed Leliana. "But Yves would almost certainly hear about it, which you do not want, yes?"

I shook my head. Despite the late hour, the streets of the lower city were still busy; if anything it was noisier than during the day, with the drunken revelers emerging from the taverns. "You are sure we won't be noticed, here?"

"Not sure, no. It's quite possible, even likely that you will be seen going in, but two men going to a brothel is hardly worthy of note. Once within, well, the girls are paid to be discreet, of course, but every man or woman has a price."

He frowned. "Do you really think so? Everyone?"

She shrugged and said, lightly, "Some, like you and Aedan have prices too high for anyone to meet, I think."

"Prices are not always in money, my dear. We sold ourselves in return for help against the blight on a number of occasions."_ And Morrigan bought me too._

"I would not worry overmuch. If one of the girls or bouncers notices you talking to Enrique, they may think little of it. It could be a chance meeting, and it would be normal enough for Wardens to speak to one another."

"I suppose." I sighed. "It will have to do."

At last we came to a large woodframe building with a crudely exaggerated painting of a voluptuous woman on a sign over the door. "I will leave you here. They do not cater to women here, and I might be mistaken for competition." She laughed. "Good luck, my friends."

"You will be all right returning alone?" Alistair asked.

"You worry that someone will take advantage of a lone, defenseless woman? Fear not. No one will even notice my passing. And I have other business to attend to tonight." With a little giggle, she disappeared into the shadow of a nearby doorway..

We walked into the common room where customers sat at tables, while most of the women posed on a raised dais, awaiting a call. Other women mingled or danced with the clients. Food and drink were served by brawny men; I expected they also dealt with unruly customers. I wondered if they were available for hire, as well.

One of the burly men approached the table. "Which ones do you fancy, fellas? Or would you like a drink?"

"Just some wine for now, thanks, while we make up our minds." He shrugged and returned with a flask of wine and two cups, which we sat and drank in silence. We were not there long before a man who had to be Enrique de Alianca descended the stairs.

He was tall and lean, with long hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His hair and beard were the color of straw, and seemed slightly out of keeping with his brown eyes. Although handsome in a hard sort of way, I would not have described him as a beautiful man, but perhaps he had been ten years ago. I judged him to be no more than thirty, but the lines around his mouth suggested a face that scowled often. I rose to my feet and approached him.

"Enrique de Alianca?" I asked.

"Yes…", he gave me a guarded look.

"I am Aedan Cousland and this is Alistair. I must speak with you."

"An honor to meet you, Commander." He said, shaking my hand, though his manner remained suspicious.

"We must go somewhere private, perhaps we can get a room here…?"

He raised an eyebrow, "They aren't ordinarily used for conversation, but I'm sure I can persuade Petruche to rent us one. I am known here…as I gather you must know."

We obtained our room, after declining several offers of additional company and the three of us sat down on the bed, as there was no other furniture but a bedside table.

Enrique said, "It is late and I am tired, so please get to the point quickly. Why do you want to talk to me."

"I have something to say that is for your ears only, and I did not want anyone else to know that we were in communication, most particularly not Yves de Chambrais…Fadrique de Bosquenorte."

He inhaled sharply, though his features betrayed little. "Why do you call me by that name?"

"Because it is yours, though long hidden."

His mouth tightened. "I suppose there is little point in denying it, but when a man joins the Wardens, his past no longer matters, as you know."

"Not to us, no, but there are others back in Llomerryn that I doubt would see it that way. I believe there is still a fair price on your head." I caught Alistair's look of nausea out of the corner of my eye.

"So the legendary hero has sunk to blackmail? What is it you want from me?" He snarled and leaped to his feet. "Money? I do not think I could match Sancho's offer. You would have done better to jump me in the alley and get your damned price from him!"

Before he could draw his weapon, I held out my hand urgently. "I have no need of gold, nor do I wish to fight you. I need your help."

"And you ask it by threatening me, _brother_?"

I sighed. "I do, only because you can only help me if I tell you everything. And I cannot afford to have my story repeated. The…blackmail," the word tasted foul, but I could not deny its accuracy, "is to ensure your silence."

"And you could not trust my honor?"

"Not in this. Please sit down again."

Reluctantly, he sat back on the bed beside me. "This is about the Fifth Blight, isn't it? Yves was right about you."

I swallowed. "I suppose he was. Shortly before the siege of Denerim, one of my companions, a mage, came to me with an offer. She had found a way to slay the Archdemon and end the Blight, without the need for a Warden to die."

"How did she even know about that? Had you been telling your companions _all_ the secrets of the Wardens?"

I shook my head. "No…I had only just learned why a Warden was needed to kill the Archdemon myself. As to how she knew…" I shrugged. "I can't say. She knew many things. But the core of her offer was this: if I could impregnate her, she could ensure that the Archdemon would seek the soul of the unborn child, not that of a Warden."

"So I take it you accepted this offer. But if this child died with the Archdemon…"

"It did not. The archdemon and the Warden die because two souls cannot occupy one body. But the witch said that a recently conceived child would not have a fully formed soul, and could absorb the 'untainted soul of the old god' and live."

His jaw dropped. "You let an old god back in the world to save your miserable life? What…" He shook his head in disbelief. "So the so-called _Hero of Ferelden_ is not only a blackmailer, but a coward in the end."

It was Alistair's turn to rise to his feet in anger. "How dare you? Aedan risked his life for Ferelden, for Thedas every day for months and months. We were _alone_ against the Blight."

"Yes, yes, I know the story. All very commendable, but he failed to do his duty in the end. Your loyalty is impressive, but then…it should have been _you_ who died, shouldn't it?"

"Alistair had nothing to do with it; he didn't even know. I made the decision alone." Softly, I added, "Enrique…if there had been a way for you to save her, to make a life with her, how far would you have been willing to go?"

He stared at the wall for a few moments, then looked at both of us. "I see. Love is a poison that makes a greater fool of a man than wine ever could…but what's done is done. I take it that this _girl_ that we have seen in our dreams is your daughter, then?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, it seems that you can deal with the problem easily enough by killing her. Unless…I suppose her soul might jump, like the Archdemon's." His eyes narrowed, "Andraste's blood, you don't expect _me_ to do your dirty work do you? Were I eager for an end, I could always return to Llomerryn."

I shook my head vigorously "No, No, I would not ask that of anyone else." I felt Alistair's eyes upon me. _Especially not you, my love. Please let me at least spare you, if it must come to that._ "But is murdering children something that comes so easily to you? It does not to me. I can't, not without knowing what she is. I know what the Chantry says about the old gods, but that was many centuries ago. I can't murder a child just because she has power and _might_ be a danger. And besides, I have no idea where she is."

"If you don't expect me to go after her, I fail to see how I fit into your plans."

"The dreams. Alistair and I have only started dreaming of her since coming to Orlais. You've likely had many more dreams, and can talk to other Wardens about their dreams. I hope to learn what she is, perhaps where she is, maybe even communicate with her, through the dreams. But I need more dreamers than just us two."

"To learn about my _dreams, _you have dredged up old demons to threaten my life." He snorted. "Very well. It seems I have little choice. But I have an appointment with someone early tomorrow morning and I will be short enough of sleep as it is. We will need to find a place where we can meet…discreetly to talk more."

"I look forward to it. Enrique," I added as he rose to leave. "I am truly sorry that I have put you in this position. I know—well, I can only imagine really—your pain…"

"Spare me your pity, Commander. We make choices and we live with the consequences." He strode out.


	11. Le Cheval Blanc:  A Secret Meeting

LE CHEVAL BLANC: A SECRET MEETING

The next morning Leliana looked weary and a little tense. I wondered where she had gone after leaving us the night before. "Good morning, Aedan. Did things go as planned with Enrique last night?"

I nodded. "He was not…happy, but he will help us. But we need to meet him again, as soon as possible. It was too late to discuss what we needed fully. It will probably require several meetings; we may be working together for a while. Should we keep meeting at _La Dame Vernie_, do you think?"

"No. A chance meeting there once or perhaps twice is fine, but if you need to meet regularly, it will surely be noticed. I cannot believe that Yves will not have people in the city watching you." She smiled. "I have a better idea. Sybille and I are going to _Le Cheval Blanc_ tonight; perhaps you and Alistair would care to join us?"

"Why not?. It's a lively place; I can see why you like it. And I think Alistair has had enough of sitting around the palace."

I looked out into the courtyard where Alistair was sparring playfully with Sybille's son using wooden swords. Rogier de Montfleurie was trained in swordsmanship by one of his mother's knights, but an opportunity to learn from a warrior of Alistair's class was a rare treat. I had been a little worried that Alistair might not recognize his own strength, as he was not used to training children, but it seemed my concerns were misplaced. I watched as he parried one of the boy's slashes and feigned being knocked off balance by the force of the blow.

As I walked out to the courtyard, Alistair complimented the boy on the attack. "Well done, monsieur, I was barely able to block that thrust."

Rogier noticed me coming out of the palace. "How come you never spar with me?" he asked.

"Rogier—" his mother said sharply, "The Commander is our guest here."

"It's all right. I doubt that your mother would approve of you learning to fight as I do. It would not be considered honorable here in Orlais.."

"He's a bad, bad man." Alistair informed him, smiling. "It's probably why we get along so well."

"Well, it seems you are fully recovered, my dear. Would you like to go out for a night on the town? I'm told all the fashionable people will be at _Le Cheval Blanc_ tonight."

Sybille chuckled. "Well, some of them."

Alistair agreed that we would escort the ladies to the inn that evening, then returned to his sparring. I watched them for a little while, thinking—not for the first time—that it was a shame that Alistair would never have children of his own.

We went out in the evening, again dressed in our fine silks. Alistair would have preferred to be armored, but was persuaded that his swordsmanship would certainly be more than a match for common thugs, even without his full battle dress. I had my usual daggers and poisons concealed on my person, and imagined Leliana did as well, so I expected we had little to fear. It was a pleasant evening, warm and fragrant with blossoms, the buildings casting long shadows in the setting sun. Farther down the hill, we walked past many street performers singing, dancing, playing flutes and lutes in the hopes that passersby would toss a few coins their way.

_Le Cheval Blanc_ was quite busy that evening, but the innkeeper came over to greet us immediately upon arrival. Leliana turned to me, "I would like you to meet Thierry, one of my oldest friends. Thierry, these are my friends Alistair and Aedan, from Ferelden."

"Ah, the mysterious Monsieur A.," chuckled Thierry, recalling the note and flower I had asked him to send Leliana on my last visit. "I see Madame Leliana remembered you after all."

Thierry ushered us to a table near the bar. I noticed many eyes in the place following us-not that this was a completely unfamiliar experience. Certainly, on the rare occasions when Alistair and I went out to an inn in Amaranthine, we were treated with similar solicitude by the staff and the focus of much attention. But what was unusual for me was that here, it was clearly Sybille and Leliana who were the people of interest. There was curiosity about us, too, but only because we had come as their guests. When I had been here on my own, the first night Val Royeaux, I had drawn little more attention than any other unfamiliar face.

As on the previous evening, it was not long before impromptu musical performances began. The intense dark-haired woman I had seen the other night—Mascarose?—was singing a sorrowful ballad about some doomed love as a younger man strummed a lute. To my surprise, Leliana stood up to join her, singing a high harmony line to the other woman's husky contralto. After finishing the song, she bowed to applause then went to the bar to chat with Thierry.

After a few minutes she returned to our table, saying "Thierry has a new vintage in the cellar you must try."

Sybille nodded, "Oh yes…you must accompany us, of course. Thierry always chooses excellent vintages for us. I am sure you will enjoy it."

Alistair and I shrugged and followed them down the steps to the cellar. Thierry pushed an oak cask aside and Leliana pressed a spot on the wall—and it opened, revealing a dark passageway behind it. "Come with me," she said, as Thierry handed her a lantern. Alistair and I followed her, while Sybille remained behind.

The passage was dank, the stonework very old and crumbling and it was lined with columns and arches in a style that reminded me of old Tevinter ruins. "What is this place?" I asked.

"Part of the old city from the times of the Tevinter Imperium. Val Royeaux has a long history and there have been many floods and fires over the centuries. The new is built on top of the wreckage of the old, and such hidden vestiges of the past are not uncommon. Come.'

Water dripped from the ceiling and the smell grew increasingly foul as we continued. "There is a sewer entrance near here," she explained. "I am sorry for the unpleasant smell, but there is no better place to meet away from prying eyes. When Marjolaine…betrayed me, Thierry helped me use these tunnels to escape. You will, of course, keep this place a secret." She led us to a small chamber, illuminated by two torches along the walls. The floor had a ceramic tile mosaic depicting some ancient military triumph. Enrique sat waiting for us on a bench by the far wall.

"How did you get here? I didn't see you in the—" I began, but Leliana silenced me with a motion of her hand.

"He came in another way. You are not to discuss your entry points. I will leave you now, but you should not stay too long—your absence will be noted if it drags on all night."

"We will try not to take too long, then." We watched her disappear back down the hall.

Alistair and I sat down on another bench opposite Enrique. "Your friend has a certain flair for this sort of thing, it seems," he remarked.

"Yes…I suppose she must have more frequent need for secret meetings than the average Grey Warden. Well, since it seems we are not to be too long, let us get started. When did Wardens start dreaming of this girl?"

"I had my first dream sometime in the spring of last year. Some may have started to get them earlier. It's hard to say exactly because Wardens don't usually talk much about taint dreams. They're an unpleasant reminder our mortality, so most of us try to forget them the next morning. At the time, I didn't think much about it, just passed it off as a freakish dream. I wasn't even sure that it was related to being a Warden; the feeling was…somehow similar but not quite the same. And the content of dream was totally unlike any taint dream I had ever had."

"What was your first dream?"

"I dreamed of the girl sitting beside a dark-haired woman that I assumed was her mother. They were both looking at a book as if she were being taught to read, and speaking in some foreign language. The mother stood up and left the room momentarily and then the girl looked at me and tilted her head to one side. She looked puzzled and blinked several times."

"Did the mother see you?"

He shook his head. "No, the dream ended before she returned. I had almost forgotten about it when I dreamed of her again a few weeks later. And then, later that summer, Yves started asking Wardens about their dreams…"

Alistair commented, "The first dream that Aedan and I had was similar in a way, with the girl seeing us."

"Everyone's first dream seems to involve some sort of eye contact or other communication. But the later dreams…most seem to be about the Warden's past. Quite a few have been nightmares, really."

I nodded. "My second dream was about the night my parent's died."

"Are there any Darkspawn in these dreams?" asked Alistair.

"Not that I've heard, but I haven't talked to that many people about them. I'm not at Coteaux du Roche regularly, so I don't have a lot of time to chitchat with my fellow Wardens."

"What about dragons?"

He shook his head.

"These nightmares—how does the little girl figure in them? How does she react? Was she part of what makes the dream alarming?" I asked.

"No, she just seems to look at them. Most of the time she looks confused. Sometimes she looks frightened."

"Hmm…It doesn't sound as though she's trying to scare us then. Just digging through our past. I suppose a lot of wardens have nightmares in their past." I sighed.

"Perhaps. It's not really the past sometimes, though—I had a dream about when Riquilda was…killed and I was never there, so…"

"Maybe she just gets drawn into particularly intense and vivid dreams that you would have had anyway, then? Now that I think about it, I had been talking about the night of Howe's attack, so I might well have had that dream anyway. How often do these dreams come?"

"It seems to vary. Some people get them every week or two, others only had the one dream."

"Any pattern?"

"Not that I know. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with how long you've been a Warden, unlike the…other dreams. Maybe she just likes some of us more than others. But as I said, it hasn't been high on my list of concerns," He added impatiently.

"What about that first dream you had? Could you tell where they were?"

"It seemed a pretty humble dwelling, like a peasant's hut. I remember thinking it oddly rustic, since most peasants can't read. And the woman was wearing a lot of gold jewelry."

I smiled at that. Morrigan had always liked her pretty baubles. "You said earlier that most of the Wardens at Coteaux du Roche had had the dreams. Is this where it started then?"

"I think so, though they seem to have been reported elsewhere in Orlais now. None at all in Ferelden?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I did start having more frequent dreams and dreams that felt…different, then, but none with the girl."

"So what do you plan to do now?"

"I need to think. It seems like we appear first in her dream and then she either starts wandering into ours or she's sifting through our past in some way. I wonder if she has any idea…I think I need to talk to a mage. There might be a way to find out more."

He raised an eyebrow. "A warden mage? There are none here in Val Royeaux that I know of."

"We could make one," I mused.

"Aedan, you're not serious!" Alistair interjected.

"I'm not thinking of forcing anyone, but if there's a mage in trouble with the Chantry…well, maybe there's another way. Do you know of any…independent mages in Val Royeaux."

"Apostates, you mean?"

"Alistair, the Templar in you is coming out. You _do _realize that all the mages in the Wardens are technically apostates."

He sighed, "You're right of course. It's just…I never really liked dealing with the Mages Collective in Ferelden. I didn't trust them."

Turning back to Enrique I asked, "Is there something like the Collective here? They're a shadowy group that claims to represent and regulate mages outside the Chantry's control."

"There is. We have some traffic with them. I can give you a name—in confidence, of course. I'm not sure how they can help you, though."

"I'm not either, but let's just say I want to explore all possible choices. In the meantime—do you travel to Coteaux du Roche regularly?"

"Often enough. I suppose you want me to make up an excuse to go there and sniff around? I can do that if I must, but I can't promise that Yves won't get suspicious."

I frowned. "Hold off on that then, but I'll be back in touch. Soon. Thanks for your help. We should be going."

We returned to the common room at _Le Cheval Blanc_. "Ah, what did you think of the new vintage?" asked Sybille as we sat down.

"Very…complex," I remarked.

"Well, in return for arranging for a taste of such a sophisticated wine, I do hope that you'll continue your story, Aedan.," said Leliana. "You were just about to tell me about going to light a…beacon?"


	12. Memories:  A Disaster and Its Aftermath

12. MEMORIES: A DISASTER AND ITS AFTERMATH

"Perhaps the inauspicious beginning should have warned us that Cailan's plans would fail. It was supposed to be a trivial task: simply cross the bridge, climb the stairs to the top of the tower, and light the beacon at the appointed time. Alistair was quite annoyed not to be fighting in the battle, but…I suppose that Ferelden might well have fallen had we not been sent to the tower, as things turned out.

As soon as we made our way there, we encountered guards fleeing the tower, saying that it had been overrun by Darkspawn. I imagine they must have tunneled in from below. So it was left for the two new Wardens, my faithful hound, and a circle mage we found at the gate—I can't recall the poor fellow's name? Do you remember, Alistair? No? I'm a little ashamed to have forgotten. He was a great help. We would never have reached the top of the tower without his magical aid, imbuing our weapons with cold, paralyzing the dangerous emissaries…he deserved to be honored, not forgotten.

Making our way through the tower was no small challenge, as all three of the lower floors were filled with darkspawn—there must have been several dozen, including a number of spellcasters. And we were in a hurry, as well. There was no time for cautious games, advancing from behind cover, using ranged weapons as we so often did elsewhere. We were forced to take them on head on. Desperate to make our way to the top in time, we fought without the slightest break. I don't think I've ever been more tired in my life.

Finally, we managed to emerge on to the top of the tower only to find the beacon guarded by a huge ogre, which was like nothing we had ever fought before. At least I hadn't. No, you hadn't either? I didn't think so. It is fortunate that—thus far—ogres are relatively uncommon. An army of them would be well nigh unstoppable. I coated my weapons with poison, tried running around the back of him, ran away when he reared back for his devastating attacks. It was terrifying. Since then, of course, I have fought many ogres, some greater ones, but the first one was the most memorable. I believe I came close to losing Alistair right there when it picked him up and grabbed him. But it was badly wounded by then, and I was able to deliver the _coup de grace_ from behind. It then dropped him and collapsed on top of him. I think that was the first sign I had of how durable he is—I am sure I would have been crushed had it been me.

The ogre conquered, I ran to light the beacon in triumph with the last of my energy. But then more darkspawn came up the stairs, many more. Blackness came in a hail of arrows and my last thought was that at least we had succeeded in our task, though we lost our lives. Surely, Loghain's charge would win the day and destroy the Darkspawn horde.

When I finally awoke, days—weeks?—later, it was Morrigan of all people, at my bedside. It took me a while to realize where I had met her before. I was somewhat disoriented. And then, I learned the awful truth. It had all been for naught. Loghain had ignored our hard-won signal and retreated, leaving the King's army—and all the rest of the Grey Wardens—to perish.

Ser Cauthrien assured me, much later, that he did see the signal, but told her the battle was already lost. I don't know if she really believes that or not. I don't think we were too late, do you, my love? I know we only had an hour, but we had moved as quickly as humanly possible. Maybe there were just too many Darkspawn and Ferelden's forces too few, though I would have thought the narrow valley an ideal site to fight a superior force. It's unknowable now.

Morrigan told me that Flemeth had changed into a giant bird and plucked us from the top of the tower. Why wouldn't I believe it? Honestly, I'd believe almost _anything_ when it comes to Flemeth. That old woman—or whatever she is…well, she rescued and healed us.

Why? That's a good question, and one that even Morrigan seemed not to have a ready answer for. What she told us was that she couldn't allow all the Grey Wardens to perish, that they were needed to fight the Blight. Even she would be ultimately be overcome, if the Archdemon won, or so she said.

Whatever her reasons, she saved both of us and nursed us back to health. Sadly, the Circle Mage who had helped us reach the beacon had not been saved. I don't know if he was already dead when Flemeth arrived or whether she simply had no interest in him because he was not a Warden.

No, she didn't rescue Conal. I haven't the faintest notion of how Conal managed to escape the tower when we were overwhelmed by Darkspawn, nor how he succeeded in finding his way to Flemeth's hut. What can I say? Mabari hounds are smart. Sometimes I think the only reason they don't talk is that they are too intelligent to be bothered with such a trivial accomplishment.

Alistair was rather distraught and Morrigan's attitude did not help matters. My poor dear had lost…well…the closest thing he had ever really had to a family and a sense of belonging when all the other Wardens were slain at Ostagar. It was not so different, in a way, from what had befallen me. But Morrigan could not understand that, owing to her peculiar upbringing. If the only family—practically the only person—you had ever known were Flemeth, you might not have been able to understand grief either.

Yes, I _do_ defend her. Of course she kept herself apart, setting up camp as far from the rest of us as possible. Can you imagine what a noisy, teeming crowd we must have seemed to her? She was used to living in a forest with only one other person. And yes, she was often rude and insensitive, but where would she have learned manners and sensitivity? From Flemeth?

And it wasn't like the rest of you made any great attempt at understanding. Leli, I _know_ you meant well, but trying to draw her into discussions of religion was not very tactful on your part. Think about what it would be like to grow up as an apostate mage, with the Templars hunting you and your mother…it's hardly surprising that talk of the Maker wasn't exactly endearing. And my dear, there was hardly a time when you managed a civil exchange with her—and while she was certainly partly to blame for that, you were no better. I know Morrigan was difficult, and I often—perhaps even usually—disagreed with her, but I do think that the rest of us could have worked harder at trying to be understanding. Her lack of experience with people made it hard for her to even attempt to comprehend us, though I think she came to respect me eventually, after a fashion.

Sorry, I got off track there…as I was saying, Alistair was—understandably-having a hard time reconciling himself to the fact that we were the Wardens left in Ferelden, and Morrigan and Flemeth were notably unsympathetic. In fact, Flemeth insisted on pushing us out into the world to stop the Blight pretty much as soon as I was able to walk. Us, including Morrigan, of course, much to Alistair's dismay. But the way I saw it, whatever her motives, Flemeth had saved our lives and while Morrigan might not have been the most affable of companions, she was undeniably a useful one.

And so, off we went, three people and a hound bound for Lothering to get some supplies in preparation for our quest to save the world, with Alistair and Morrigan bickering all the way. Upon arriving in Lothering, we found that things were even worse than we thought. But then, Lothering is also where we met a certain Orlesian bard, so the rest of the story is familiar to you."


	13. Val Royeaux:  A Hidden Mage

13. VAL ROYEAUX: A HIDDEN MAGE

"Duncan, no!" Alistair cried out as I woke up with a jolt. He was thrashing about, entangling himself in the bedclothes which he had mostly pulled off of me.

I turned over and reached out my arms to hold him. "It's alright, love." He was awake now, his skin moist with sweat, and breathing hard. "I suppose it's my fault for talking about Ostagar, yesterday. You dreamed of the battle?"

I felt the pounding of his heart slow as he relaxed in my embrace. He nodded. "I was at the battle with Cailan—and Duncan. There were only a few of his honor guard and the Wardens left; the Darkspawn had overrun us. A huge ogre held Cailan in his grasp and Duncan was trying to save him. He was badly wounded but he summoned the strength to leap up to the ogre, but…" He closed his eyes. "It was horrible…and _she_ was there."

"And what was she doing?"

"She was trying to hide behind me; I only saw her when she tugged at my arm and I turned around. She looked so small in the middle of the horde; I think she was frightened and wanted to run away but there was nowhere to go."

"Maybe I should stop talking about the Blight, if it's going to stir up these memories…"

"No—it's been interesting hearing your account of everything. I can handle a few nightmares, it's…just part of being a Warden."

I considered. "If she gets drawn into intense vivid dreams, maybe recounting the year of the Blight will give us more chances to see her, learn about her."

He rolled me onto my back and I felt the familiar warmth and weight of his body on mine. It was good not to have to worry about his broken ribs any more. "Besides…waking up in the middle of the night with you isn't all bad." I felt him stiffen against me and my own desire rising in answer.

I chuckled. "Had I known you found nightmares so stimulating, I would have tried to induce them more often."

The following day we set out to find the herbalist that Enrique had identified as a contact with the organization of mages. I did not bother to arrange a secret meeting; I felt a visit to an herbalist would not look suspicious for two wardens planning a long journey. He had a small shop in the bottom floor of an old, somewhat rundown house south of the Grand Market.

I swung open the door to the shop and looked around. A variety of dried herbs were hung on hooks along the wall behind a counter and there were a number of flasks filled with prepared potions arranged on shelves. The man behind the counter looked up as we entered.

"Welcome to my humble shop, _mes sieurs_," said the slim, grey-haired man. "How may I help you today?"

"I am looking for a man named Odouart. Are you he?"

He nodded, and glanced toward the door. "It appears you know of me, yet I do not know you. May I ask your name, monsieur."

"I am Aedan Cousland." I saw his eyes widen. "While Alistair and I may have need of some of your merchandise, I need to talk to you about more…specialty services than common herbs.

He took a deep breath. "I see. I had heard you were in town, but I had not expected the honor of meeting you." _Was _everyone_ in Orlais spying on me? _" I am reluctant to speak with people I do not know about such things, even Wardens, but…I have heard that you dealt fairly with our brethren in Ferelden." He went to the windows to close the shutters, then took a key out of his robe to lock the door. "Please come to my store room; it is less likely that we can be overheard there than out here," he said, indicating a door behind the counter.

He led us into a room where there was a work bench with a mortar and pestle, a rack of flasks, and a number of pots of strange-smelling bubbling liquids above a fire pit. He indicated for us to sit with him near the workbench.

"I am no _maleficar_, no matter what you may have heard. But it is not safe to practice magic openly, especially here in Val Royeaux. What is it that you wish of me, Commander?

"I have a particular problem that a mage may be able to help with. It has to do with dreams, and though I am not versed in magic myself, I understand that mages have a special connection with the fade."

"You have nightmares, Commander? I have an herb that can deliver dreamless and sound sleep, but I do not recommend using it regularly."

"No, I don't have nightmares…well, I do, but that's not why I'm here, exactly." He nodded, slightly. I wondered if he had heard about Warden's dreams. "I have been encountering a recurring…entity in my dreams."

"An entity? Like a demon? It is possible, but they rarely trouble a non-mage repeatedly. You do not draw their interest as we do. And they cannot follow _you_ back to our world from the Fade, so you have nothing to fear."

"Not a demon, I think. Perhaps a spirit of some kind? Or perhaps…a mage? Is such a thing possible?"

"A _mage?_ You think a mage haunts your dreams. Impossible." He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "No one has such power."

"Are you certain? Some years ago, there was a boy who was an abomination, possessed by a pride demon. A..friend of mine, a mage, went into the fade, into the boy's dream, to confront the demon…"

"How was this done? That takes a great deal of energy unless…"

"She did not do it alone. She was aided by several mages in a ritual. It took a lot of lyrium."

He nodded. "Ah, yes—I have read of such a ritual. It must have been very exciting! Such a display of arcane power! But you had the boy nearby, correct? I cannot imagine that this mage you suspect has such access to you, or access to a circle and inexhaustible lyrium to trouble your dreams repeatedly. Does she resemble a mage you know? It could be a spirit, seeking to trick you with a familiar guise, though why you would attract such a thing, I cannot say."

"No one I know, no. But…is physical closeness the only thing that could work? What about…" I would not mention that it related to being a Warden, I decided. "…a relative? There is magic in my family background, on my mother's side," I lied.

"I…well, it _might_ be easier then, but still, the need for power—and other mages to help—no single mage could possibly do it. No." He shook his head. "What makes you think it is a mage, rather than something native to the fade?"

"I—can't explain, just—well, let's suppose it is a spirit of some kind. Is there any way that I could talk to it? Is being _awake_ in the fade something that can be taught?"

He frowned. "If that could be taught, the talent for magic could be taught. They are inextricably bound together. But what is it that you would ask it?"

"I don't even know properly. Who she is, what she wants from me, I suppose. But a mage could follow _me _into my dream, using the same ritual we spoke of earlier?"

"It could be done, but—does this spirit visit you every night? It would have to be in your dream when the ritual is performed."

I sighed. "No…it's hard to predict."

"Then there is no way it could be done. And even if you knew when such a dream would occur, _I_ do not have access to the amount of lyrium that would be needed."

"Perhaps if we went to the Grand Cathedral and asked the Knight Commander of the Templars if he would be a good fellow and lend us some lyrium?" suggested Alistair. "Aedan, this sounds impossible."

"So there's no way it can be done, unless I can induce the dream at will? That is…disappointing, but thank you for your time." I offered him a small fee for his advice and we haggled a little over some herbs—one could never have too much elfroot handy.

Before I left he added, "I am sorry I could not be of more assistance. But Commander, if this entity wishes to communicate with you, it will."

I nodded and left the shop. "Well, it was worth a try," I said to Alistair after we left. "I suppose I will have to ask Enrique to go to Coteaux du Roche and ask among the wardens there. There _has_ to be some way to find her…maybe if we can assemble enough dreams, get enough clues to where she might be…"


	14. Val Royeaux: A Chance Meeting

14. VAL ROYEAUX: A CHANCE MEETING

We were walking back to the Palais, when a vaguely familiar voice spoke clearly above the hubbub of the market, "Why, what a surprise to see the Ferelden wardens again!"

I spun around to see Yves leaning against the chanter's board in front of one of the city's many Chantries. I was annoyed with myself for having been too preoccupied to notice his taint approaching. He was dressed all in blue and grey silks with a grey hat with blue feathers to match; even the scabbard of his rapier was encrusted with silver and sapphires.

I very much doubted that he was surprised to see us. "Good afternoon, Commander. It is most unexpected to see you, as well."

"Indeed? I come into the city regularly enough, but I had thought that you and Alistair would be long gone by now on your way to Weisshaupt. Perhaps you could not bear to leave the companionship of that ravishing friend of yours and the dowager Comtesse?" Despite his 'surprise' at seeing us, he seemed well-informed of our doings.

"You may recall that Alistair was rather seriously injured. I thought it best for him to have some time to rest and recuperate before we make a long journey."

"Oh?" He looked Alistair over critically. "He looks well enough to me now."

Alistair shrugged. "I feel well enough, but Aedan—"

"Is of no mind to rush. You had a head injury my dear; they can be deceptive."

"I am _so_ surprised that you would wish to delay your mission, but I suppose many find it hard to leave the delights of Val Royeaux. Still, you should keep in mind that the high passes into Anderfels become impassable before the end of Harvestmere, if you still plan to make the journey by land."

"I thank you for that advice, but we shall proceed when we are ready. And what brings you into town?"

"The Midsummer festival is nigh. I always come to scout out the available talent."

"Ah, I see. In peace, vigilance. Well, we should not keep you from you from your business. Happy hunting, Commander."

He gave us a graceful bow and a tip of the feathered hat, then walked away. I kept an eye on him for some time after he had left to ensure that he had not doubled back to follow us. _No need to do that himself, of course._

"He chanced upon us in much the way that we bumped into Branka in the Deep Roads, don't you think?" observed Alistair.

"Mmmm…I believe I am going to have to start behaving more aggressively toward those who watch us." Alistair gave me a searching look. "Oh, don't worry, I won't use lethal means of persuasion, unless they prove particularly persistent. But it's that or leave you behind, my dear. You know I adore your company but…I would be much more difficult to follow without you." I made a point of scanning the people around us as we walked back to Sybille's, looking for recurring faces. No reason to do anything about it now—there was no point in trying to hide the fact that we were staying at the _Palais de Montfleurie_—but for future reference.

The following evening Leliana had again arranged for me to meet Enrique, so Alistair and I headed down the hill toward _Le Cheval Blanc_. As we walked past a butcher's shop, and then a second time near some street performers, I noticed the shadow in a nearby alley once, and then again near the butcher's shop. _A rookie._ _No experienced tail would try to hide in the alleys leading west from the road the target was traveling, unless they believed him completely oblivious_. I felt almost insulted, unless they were following someone else. "Wait here a moment and pretend to listen to the musicians—toss a few coins at them, if you will."

I stepped over to the deeply shadowed western side of the road and searched for a side street that would connect me up to the alley where I had seen our follower's silhouette. Sure enough, when I looked down the alley I saw the back of a woman wearing a leather cap. I crept up on her, noting with satisfaction that in addition to being fashionable, the shoes that Leliana had selected for me had soft soles that made little noise even on the hard cobblestone. My daggers were in hand with a flick of my wrists. As I stood directly behind her the woman peered around the corner into the street. "Looking for someone?" I inquired.

She gasped and turned around, a cheap grey iron dagger appearing in her own hand as well. She was a young woman with pockmarks on her forehead and wispy brown hair. I had seen her before, in the market near the herbalist's shop and again on the way back from Sybille's. Her face was pale with fear.

"I wouldn't try to use that, if I were you. Do not continue to follow us, if you wish to live."

"I wasn't—"

I snorted. "Yes you were, and you are working way out of your class, girl. Did whoever hired you even tell you who I _am_? Go home. Tell them you lost us or tell them the truth. I don't care, so long as I don't see you again."

Having scared one of our would-be pursuers off, I rejoined Alistair. "Just had to deal with a spy in the alleyway, my dear," I said quietly. "There are likely to be informers at the inn, too, and there's little I can do about that, but at least we should be rid of one." Alistair looked over my clothes; I supposed he was looking for blood. I laughed. "No need for any trouble just a little conversation was required."

Thierry opened up the passage for us into the ancient subterranean city where Enrique was waiting for us.

"What do you want from me now? I've told you everything I know about the dreams."

"If I'm to find the girl, I need to learn more and you're the best lead I can think of. I spoke to Odouart, but he could offer no aid. I'm going to have to ask you to go to Coteaux du Roche and learn as much as you can from the other Wardens. Anything they remember from the dreams, especially the first one since it seems like it comes from her own life rather than ours. Details about the kinds of trees, any buildings they remember, bodies of water, anything that might be a clue to where she is."

"No need for the politeness, you know you're ordering me not asking. But you do understand that people will be curious why I've become so interested in these dreams."

"Tell them you've been asked to gather data for Weisshaupt. As luck would have it, Yves won't be at Coteaux du Roche, so by the time he learns of it, I hope I will have left Val Royeaux and be on my way to find her. Did you know Yves was coming here, by the way?"

He nodded. "I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow. I'll have to put off going to Coteaux du Roche until the following day."

"Do you think he's really just here for the Midsummer Tournament. That's still almost a fortnight away, isn't it?"

"That's when the most popular events are held, on the final day, but the beginning of the festival starts in five days. Perhaps he wants to learn a little bit about who is participating beforehand, perhaps he has court business which he wishes to attend to. Perhaps he wants to keep an eye on you," he said, fixing me with a baleful look. "By the way, what do you expect me to tell me about you, if he asks?"

I frowned. "Do you think he will? You can tell him that you met me—just in case our meeting at _La Dame Vernie_ reached his ears. But deny any specific knowledge of my doings, other than where I'm staying. And tell him that you plan to leave town for a few days, visit friends—you do have some among the Wardens, yes? With him here, it seems as though there's less need for a court liaison for the Wardens, so say you think it's a good time for a break."

He agreed and we parted ways again. Alistair and I needed to keep from appearing to be away from the common room at the inn for too long. If he could not uncover any useful information, I was not sure what my next move would be. I could try looking for Morrigan, but I had no idea even where to begin to search.


	15. Memories:  Unexpected Aid

15. MEMORIES: UNEXPECTED AID AND A DEMON CHILD

"How did you meet Aunt Leliana?" Rogier asked me after dinner the following night.

"Has she never told you?" I raised an eyebrow to Leliana. "She is the professional storyteller, after all. I am certain her account would be far more exciting to hear."

"Oh, I don't know, Aedan, you have been getting plenty of practice lately. and doing well enough."

"I'd like to hear it through your eyes, as well. Besides," Sybille added in a penetrating whisper worthy of the theatre, "Leliana has been known to exaggerate."

I laughed. "Well, it was in Lothering, a village that lay in the south of Ferelden, near the Korcari Wilds, that we crossed paths. Alistair and I went there shortly after the Battle of Ostagar where all the Ferelden Wardens save us had fallen, with my hound Conal, and a mage, Morrigan. Morrigan had suggested we go there for news and supplies.

The news was all bad. It was really in Lothering, even more than Ostagar, that the true horror of the coming blight became clear to me. The village was crowded with refugees, hundreds of them, fleeing northward before the darkspawn. Loghain had abandoned the south and taken his army back to Denerim, so it had no protection from the coming storm. We also learned that Loghain had proclaimed himself Regent, but that not all the nobles had accepted in him; rumors of civil war had begun. And—for us—the worst news of all that the Grey Wardens had been outlawed and there was a price on our heads in Ferelden. We had been there only a short while when a band of hungry refugees attempted to kill us for the bounty. They were poorly armed and easily cut down, but I regretted having to kill them. Then again, perhaps they would have met worse fates had they lived.

Why did Loghain outlaw the Wardens? That's a good question. He claimed that we had betrayed the King. We were supposedly agents of Orlais working to restore Orlesian rule in Ferelden. Perhaps he just needed a scapegoat for the disaster at Ostagar. Perhaps he had guessed that Alistair had survived, and viewed him as a potential rival for the throne for his daughter Anora, Cailan's widow. I don't know.

Once we learned of the bounty, we stopped announcing ourselves as wardens, of course, but the news had spread quickly despite our best efforts. But simply outlawing us was not enough; Loghain had left a few men in Lothering to try and kill any wardens who might have survived the battle. We were confronted by a group of his men at the inn. Seeing us in danger, a sister of the local chantry tried to intervene on our behalf. When th fighting broke out, she aided us, displaying unusual skills for a chantry sister. As you've probably guessed, it was Leliana. As to what an Orlesian bard was doing in a village chantry in southern Ferelden, well, that's a story you'll have to ask her sometime, if she has not shared it. She was quite insistent on joining our group, saying that she had a vision—"

"I had a _dream_," interrupted Leliana. "I should never have called it a vision, but…well, I had a very strong feeling that it was a true one."

"Leliana told us that the Maker had told her to aid us against the Blight. I must say Morrigan and Alistair were dubious, but at that point, I was leading an army of four, so I felt we needed the help. And she could, after all, fight.

We stayed just long enough to do a few jobs from the chantry board to raise money for supplies. By the time we left, the vanguard of the Darkspawn were already arriving; we fought a small group on our way out of town. It was painful to leave the village to its fate, but there was no way for five of us to defend against the horde that would soon be bearing down on the unfortunate villagers. I hope most of them were able to get out in time, but I have no idea…

Redcliffe, an Arling in the west of Ferelden was our destination. We had some old treaties that would compel the assistance of the elves, the dwarves and the circle of mages, but we felt these would avail us little if the army of Ferelden was arrayed against us. If my father had lived, things would have been so different…but he had not, and Highever had fallen to Rendan Howe. We would find no help there, and most of Father's friends and vassals had fallen at Ostagar. Alistair felt that Arl Eamon was our best chance of finding a sponsor powerful enough to aid us against Loghain. Although even then we had heard that Eamon had fallen so deathly ill that his wife had sent out knights in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes in desperation.

When we arrived in Redcliffe, we found that Eamon's illness was the least of our problems. The village was suffering nightly assaults from an army of walking corpses that seemed to be coming from the castle, and there had been no contact with the castle for days. Eamon's brother, Bann Teagan begged us to help them fight off the undead.

Morrigan thought the village should be abandoned to its fate. For all her knowledge, she was often rather shortsighted, perhaps because of lack her experience. She did not seem to understand that we needed help from at least some influential Ferelden nobles, and Redcliffe was our best chance. I honestly thought Eamon was likely dead, but hoped that Teagan could champion our cause, as he was Teagan's heir if all those in the castle had perished, as I suspected. So we needed his help.

There were other factors, too. She knew better than the rest of us what we would be facing. Plus, Redcliffe had been Alistair's idea and Morrigan had not favored going there to start with. And she was always more comfortable—and easier to get along with-in the wilderness. She always seemed edgy and irascible in cities and villages-"

Leliana was nodding. "I know. That was why I was so surprised to see her in Val Royeaux."

My wine goblet clattered to the table, splattering bubbling, pale golden wine all about. "Morrigan is _here?"_ I quickly apologized to Sybille and made to wipe up the mess, but Sybille's servants were efficiently cleaning it up and refilling my goblet.

The two women were staring oddly at me, but Alistair gave me a knowing nod. _We should have suspected this. Why else would it only be in Orlais that the Wardens dreamt of her daughter?_ I silently cursed myself for not thinking of it earlier. "Why did you not tell me she was here?"

"I—didn't know it was important. You did not ask about her, and we were never really friends…I don't think she lives here, but she must be nearby."

"What's she doing here?"

"I have not had a chance to really speak to her, only seen her in passing, but I believe she acts as a sort of counsel to the Empress on arcane matters."

"Leli, I really need to see her. Do you know how to get in touch with her?"

Still puzzled by my urgency, she shrugged. "No, but I can…ask around, if it's important, tomorrow."

"Please do."

Rogier interrupted, "But what about the walking corpses?"

"We aided the villagers in their preparation as best we could. They were understandably terrified. There were a handful of knights, but the rest of the defenders had no combat experience, and the numbers of walking dead had increased each night. When night came, they began marching down toward us. The stench of their rotting flesh was overpowering and while not fast, they had an unnatural strength, and were not much bothered by blows that would kill a man.

Still, things went quite well, at first, as we assisted the knights in defending a barricade on the hillside above the village. We had found some oil in the village store, which we used to great effect. The undead are vulnerable to fire, and we were able to get many of them injured before they could reach us. Victory seemed at hand, when a messenger came from the village with the news that a second army had gone around our barricade unseen and attacked the village. Leaving the knights to man the barricade, we ran down to the village. Actually, I think we left Leliana with the knights because our campsite was up there and I feared losing all our travel gear, but the rest of us went down the hill.

Defending the village very nearly proved fatal. Wave upon wave of undead assaulted us; it seemed like there was no end to them. Nearly all of the village's able-bodied men were slain during the assault and I fell in battle myself, bludgeoned by one of the foul creatures. Ironically, I believe Morrigan was the only one of us who was never overcome, though none of us were injured beyond healing. But in the end, the village—well, its women, children and old men-were saved, at least temporarily. We still did not know what had happened in the castle, or the source of the undead army.

The following morning we approached the castle and Isolde, Eamon's wife unexpectedly appeared. She insisted Teagan return to the castle with her—alone—and was evasive as to exactly what was going on there. She blamed everything on a mage who had poisoned Eamon and summoned the undead, even after being imprisoned, but would not explain why it was so important for Teagan to go alone. Teagan went with her, but told us of a secret way into the castle.

The secret passage led into the dungeons below Redcliffe castle. I had hoped that last night's assault had emptied it of monsters, but there were still more undead to fight there, some of which were shades, corpses possessed by demons. But we had learned much from our difficulties in the battle and were able to overcome the monsters.

We found the mage, Jowan, of whom Isolde had spoken in the dungeon, an admitted blood mage who had been hired by Loghain to poison Eamon. Clearly, Loghain had been laying down the groundwork for his seizure of the country from Cailan for some time. We also learned something that Isolde had not told us—Jowan had been brought to the castle to teach Eamon's son, Connor, magic because she did not want to let him go to the circle of mages. The mage claimed not to know where the undead and demons were coming from, however.

We made our way out of the depths of the castle to its courtyard, thinking to open the gates and let Ser Perth and his knights in, but were waylaid by still more undead, including a powerful possessed undead called a revenant. Once again, we were nearly defeated. When the rest of us had fallen, Alistair faced the revenant alone on the steps of Redcliffe castle, badly wounded and near exhaustion, all our healing potions consumed. Somehow, he found the strength to strike it down. Our journey—and Fereldens' best hope of survival—very nearly ended in the Redcliffe courtyard.

When the rest of us had been revived, we opened the gates and entered the main hall of the castle, to find a most startling spectacle. Isolde and her son were sitting in the audience chamber while Teagan capered and performed acrobatics for them. It soon became clear that he and the remaining guards were mind controlled by a demon that had possessed Connor, a boy about your age, Rogier.

The abomination made Teagan and his guards attack us, but Morrigan unleashed a lightning storm in the chamber that badly injured them and made them easy to defeat. Then, Connor ran away, Teagan came to his senses, and we were left with the problem of how to end the threat of the demon.

The obvious way was to kill Connor, and as much as I detested the idea of killing a child, I thought we had no choice. But Morrigan said that it was possible for a mage to follow Connor back into the dream where the demon had possessed him and defeat the demon there, forcing it to relinquish control. She told us this in a detached tone, as though it were of merely scholarly interest. It required a number of mages and a large supply of lyrium, however, so it seemed we could not do it.

Or could we? Isolde pointed out that the Circle of Mages was only a day's journey away. I had been planning to go there after Redcliffe, in order to secure the mages aid against the Blight. Worried that the demon would again go on a rampage, as soon as we departed, I left Morrigan and Alistair in Redcliffe, while the rest of us made haste for the Circle Tower. I thought that his templar skills and her magic would be enough to help Ser Perth and Bann Teagan to keep the demon under control.

I was not worried about a short journey to the tower with just the three of us. Leliana and I are difficult to ambush, so I expected we could avoid danger, and I was not expecting a fight at the Circle. But, as with so many other things that year, gaining the aid of the mages proved more complicated than I anticipated…"

"Rogier, it's time for you to go to bed," said Sybille.

"Awww—but I wanted to hear the rest of the story..." he whined.

I laughed, "It's much too long a story for one night. And I did tell you how we met Leliana."

Rogier was sent off to bed, and Alistair and I returned to our own chambers to talk about Morrigan's presence. I was delighted that we finally had some clue to her whereabouts, though I wondered what had brought her to Orlais.


	16. P de Montfleurie:  Reclusive Counselor

PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: A RECLUSIVE COUNSELOR

Several days passed as I waited for some clue as to how to proceed. Enrique left for Coteaux du Roche as planned, hoping to be back shortly after the festival began. Leliana seemed quite busy, with a great deal of nocturnal activity. She promised me that she would find out what she could about Morrigan, but had not yet shared any information.

I practiced my sparring and acrobatics and wandered the streets of Val Royeaux with Alistair. With no real way to advance my plans, I took perverse pleasure in attempting to make my activities as puzzling as possible for anyone who followed us. I chose five passages at random from the Chant of Light and quizzed every Revered Mother I happened across as to their significance. I browsed bookstores, buying codices on the heraldry of extinct Orlesian families, Nevarran cooking, and Qunari culture. More pragmatically, I purchased some maps of Orlais and a treatise on botany, in the faint hope that Enrique could find something described from a dream that would give us a clue where to look.

The morning of the fourth day after our last meeting with Enrique, Leliana asked us to meet her in Sybille's drawing room before dinner. _Finally, I'm going to get some answers._. I arrived there sometime before she did and waited. A map had been laid out on the table. I studied it in the hopes that it had something to do with Morrigan's whereabouts, though on closer inspection, that seemed unlikely.

The map depicted land holdings along the border between Orlais and Nevarra of various noble families, all meticulously named and the size of their estates noted. Someone had shaded the boundaries in colored ink. Judging by the names and the geographic pattern, blue was for Orlesian nobles, red for Nevarran. Although a general trend could be discerned from predominantly blue in the west to predominantly red in the east, the middle of the map was a complex interweaving of the two, even the holdings of individual families were scattered. With such a poorly defined border, it was no wonder that the two countries had been at war intermittently for the past two hundred years. Based on my own experience of the unruly Banns in Ferelden, I had no doubt that there would always be skirmishes between the noble families in such a situation, even when the two countries were nominally at peace. Someone—was that Leliana's hand?-had drawn arrows between some holdings and X's across others, and scribbled a few question marks, as well.

I was still studying the map when Leliana arrived, "Sorry for my lateness. I hope you were not waiting long."

"Not too long. Is Sybille planning on purchasing some land?"

"Not for herself, no. The map pertains to potential land deals among some friends of hers. But I don't want to bore you with such things. I did say I would try to learn more about Morrigan…"

I nodded expectantly.

"I'm afraid I haven't been able to learn very much. She first appeared at court a little over a year ago…" _Just about the time, Enrique had his first dream_. "…but it appears she does not live in Val Royeaux, just visits the palace once a month or so. No one seems to know exactly where she does live, or even how she gets to the palace."

"She probably comes to the city in the form of a bird or a cat or some other animal, rather than in her own human form."

"Morrigan is _human?_" interjected Alistair.

I rolled my eyes. "How is the Chantry taking Celene's association with an apostate?"

"They don't know technically, though I'm sure they have their suspicions. It's not as though she advertises it, and she's not very visible. Most people have never heard of her, in any case."

"What do you suppose Celene learns from Morrigan? And what is Morrigan getting out of it, I wonder."

Leliana shrugged. "The Imperial Library is quite extensive; I would guess that Morrigan would find things of interest there, and…well, Celene has a boundless appetite for knowledge herself. Morrigan can probably tell her things no one else can."

"So you don't know any way to get in touch with her. Surely she must send messengers to her when she needs her counsel?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps, but if so, the messengers are _very_ discreet."

I clenched my fists in frustration. "But I _need _to see her. I thought for a moment. "I don't suppose I could ask Celene herself?"

Leliana considered. "Given who you are, you might be able to get an audience with her. She would want something in return, however."

I nodded. "Very well, then. I will request to meet with her."

"I'll talk to Sybille. It might be hard this close to the festival, but we shall see. Of course, I suppose she'll want to hear more of the story. You've got Rogier interested now; he wants to know what happened to the boy who was possessed."

"But you could tell the story better than me!"

"Ah, but now Sybille wants to hear it without my 'exaggerations'" She sighed theatrically.

I matched her sigh for sigh. "Oh, very well. Let's go to dinner and I will tell of the Circle Tower.


	17. Memories: The Tower of Madness

MEMORIES: THE TOWER OF MADNESS

"So Leliana, Conal and I hurried to the small community that had grown up around the docks that served the Circle Tower, narrowly avoiding an ambush by bandits on the way. We stopped into the Spoiled Pricess—the curiously named inn there—to pick up some healing herbs and ran into the ferryman for the Tower. He told us that his boat had been commandeered by a Templar who was not taking anyone across.

My heart sank as I realized that this must mean that there was trouble at the Circle. At this point, I still imagined that my main problems were avoiding capture by Loghain's men and defeating the Archdemon. Naively, I expected that the treaties entitled me to the aid of the mages, dwarves and elves and thought I need merely show up and they would respond to the crisis. Like so many of my expectations that year, this proved not to be the case.

The Templar had a sense of humor, but I was in no mood for jokes and managed to bully him into taking me across to the Tower. There, I met the Knight Commander Gregoir, who explained that the Tower was infested with demons and abominations—so much so that the Templars had cut their losses and retreated, sealing the tower and whoever still remained there inside. He had taken the drastic step of sending to his superiors for a rite of annulment, and for reinforcements to carry out the work of killing everyone still within.

I persuaded him to allow us to attempt to eliminate the demons and save what remained of the Circle, if it could be done. I felt we had to try. How could we hope to face the Archdemon and all the Darkspawn Emissaries in the horde with only one mage? With little optimism, I contemplated the prospect of the three of us taking on enemies the Templars had decided were too numerous and dangerous. In one sense, I regretted leaving Morrigan and Alistair behind, as their skills would surely be sorely needed to face demons. But in another, it was perhaps for the best. If we failed, at least Alistair be able to kill Connor and try to gather the other troops. Perhaps he could still succeed without us or the mages.

For once, we were luckier than we appeared. We had not gone far into the tower when we encountered a small group of mages battling a fiery rage demon. It seemed at least a few of the mages had survived and managed to carve out a small enclave of safety for a few young apprentices behind a magical barrier. They were led by the Senior Enchanter Wynne, who was naturally alarmed by what Gregoir had told me. Unfortunately, Gregoir had said he would not allow anyone out of the Tower unless either all were dead or First Enchanter Irving told him it was safe—and Wynne had no idea where the First Enchanter was, or even whether he was alive. Still, I felt much more confident entering the tower with Wynne's magic. Although she lacks the killing power of Morrigan's sorcery, she has great skill in magical healing and protection spells.

We had need of them. Even as Gregoir had said, the tower was filled with the hunger abominations with their unquenchable appetites, and the rage abominations in their mindless fury. Wherever we went, we found the charred and half-eaten corpses of circle mages and templars. But the survivors, hideous monsters still wearing the tattered and bloodstained remains of robes, were worse. I cannot imagine how Wynne bore it, seeing her friends and colleagues of many years so grotesquely transformed. I think it would have been worse even than what I experienced on the night of Howe's attack. At least my family were themselves to the end. To be forced to destroy the unspeakable creatures your friends had become must have been horrendous.

It was a long struggle to reach the top of the tower, far worse than the Tower of Ishual, but I was more experienced and confident in my abilities by then. A few things from the climb stand out in memory. Wynne found out from the Tranquil who maintained the supply room that a mage named Niall had sought protection from blood magic, and it was not long before we learned why: we were attacked by blood mages ourselves. After we defeated them, one of them pleaded for her life, and I spared her. I was not sure it was the right decision at the time, but I felt she had learned her lesson and whatever they had planned, it had surely failed. Sometimes mercy is repaid with treachery, but not in this case, for she came to the Wardens not long after the Blight ended…"

"Was that Meghann?" interrupted Alistair. "I remember she said that she had met you in the Circle Tower, but I thought she was just one of the mages you saved. Though now that I think about it, she wasn't with the circle mages at Fort Drakon."

I nodded. "It was Meghann. She escaped the tower and came to us when she was being hunted by the Templars."

Alistair frowned. "You never told me she was a blood mage."

"The Wardens are prepared to use any tools available against the Blight, as you know. She has served us well, has she not?"

"I suppose you're right."

"One of the saddest things I encountered in the Tower was a Templar who had been ensnared by a Desire Demon. He truly believed the demon was his wife and that they were enjoying a sort of idyllic family life. We all focused our attacks on the demon, expecting that killing it would break the spell. Alas, he was too far gone, and thought we had murdered his wife. We were forced to kill the poor man. Afterward, I read a part of his diary about how much he hated being in the Tower and yearned for a simple family life. The demon had spoken the truth when she had claimed to be fulfilling his desire, it seemed. I almost wondered if I had done the wrong thing, but I suppose the demon would have killed him eventually. Well, really, even had we left them alone, the Templars would have killed them, after they reoccupied the tower.

The Templar reminded me of Alistair, in a way. By this time, Alistair had related his story to me, about growing up as a bastard in Redcliffe, then being sent away to the Chantry. I sensed that same longing for a family in him. I think the reason he took Duncan's death so hard was that the Grey Warden had been a sort of family for him. Sometimes I wish that…"

Reading my thoughts, Alistair put an arm around my shoulder. "You're my family, Aedan. And we have Fergus, and his children, too."

I nodded. "Though we had only been traveling together a few weeks, I missed him in the Circle Tower. I found myself thinking often of him: his silly jokes, the way his confidence in me encouraged me, his handsome face…the glimpses of his body I had caught when he bathed in a stream. Maybe it was loss that drew us together, too. He had lost Duncan, who had been like a Father to him, and I had lost my whole family. Already, the young man who had lost the family he had never appreciated enough was falling under the spell of the young man who yearned for a family he had never had. Or maybe he persuaded Morrigan to cast a love charm on me while we were away."

"Yes, that's right! You found me out. Morrigan and I were in it together from the start!"

"That explains a great deal. But to go back to my story, the greatest danger we faced in the tower was the sloth demon that held Niall. As soon as we walked into the room, we too were trapped in a dreamworld and isolated from each other.

Sloth demons try to persuade human beings to idleness, that the things that they seek are meaningless, already in their possession, or they have already failed. I found myself in a vast chamber with Duncan, who told me that the Blight was over, Ferelden safe, and even that there was nothing left for the Wardens to do but enjoy their victory. But even with my mind fogged by the demon's spell, I knew something was wrong. Duncan was surely dead, and I remembered the Warden's motto: in peace, vigilance. If the Chantry is right and there are two more blights to come, perhaps the Wardens may put down their arms, but that time has not come, and the real Duncan would know that. The shade of Duncan the demon conjured attacked me when it knew it had failed to persuade me. After defeating it, I escaped my dream prison and began to explore the sloth demon's realm.

That was when I met Niall, who had given up hope, but gave me enough clues to enable me to find my companions and eventually the demon itself. My recollections of this time are…confused…I felt like I wandered in the fade for weeks battling mages, undead, burning men, darkspawn and golems, though I know this could not be true. I seemed to learn to transform myself into different things: a mouse to pass through tiny passages between places, a being of fire able to fling fireballs and pass through flames unharmed, a mighty golem that could break down massive steel doors, a being of spirit that could freeze his foes and see hidden doors. It was like disabling the mechanism of a vast and complicated system of locks that imprisoned us and protected the sloth demon.

I found Wynne surrounded by dead apprentices, convinced that she had failed to protect them. It was hard to convince her she was being deceived by a demon. But when I persuaded her to leave, the demon showed itself...but after we defeated it, she disappeared. I found Leliana in quiet contemplation with a soothing personage that appeared to be a reverend mother, but was able to show her that it was really a demon, but then she vanished, as well. As to Conal, well, who knows what he saw, but he too disappeared when his master came for him.

I was reunited with my companions only when I came upon the demon's hidden central lair at the heart of this fade realm. The final fight itself proved less challenging than getting to that point, for though it transformed itself into beings of fire and fearsome strength, I had shape changes to match it. It's a pity I cannot transform myself like that in the real world. When we finally slew the demon in the fade, we came out of our dream and found ourselves back in the Circle Tower, but Niall was dead. The demon had fed on him for too long and his spirit was gone. We took the Litany of Andraste from him and went on upstairs to the top of the tower.

There, the abomination that had once been the mage Uldred was trying to force demons into the remaining Circle mages including Irving. Had he succeeded, he might well have overwhelmed us with abominations. However, armed with the litany, we were able to prevent him from seizing control of them with blood magic and kept him from raising more abominations against us. Niall, despite his deep sense of failure and sadness, had saved the Circle, in the end…or what was left of it.

First Enchanter Irving was happy to promise me the aid of the mages against the Blight and the resources to save Connor. We hurried back to Redcliffe, where I was relieved to find that the demon had been quiet and Morrigan and Alistair had refrained from killing one another. Wynne went into the Fade after Connor's demon and defeated it, and the boy was restored. Mercifully, he appeared to have no memory of anything that had happened.

And so our first major tests of the year had been passed. Though there had been much death and destruction at Redcliffe and the Circle Tower, order had been restored and we had gained some allies in the fight. There was still much more to do, but it was a start—and as much storytelling as I can manage tonight."


	18. The Palais Royeaux:  The Empress

THE PALAIS ROYEAUX: THE EMPRESS

"Now entering the throne room for his audience with Her Most Imperial Majesty, the Empress Celene: Arl Aedan Cousland of Amaranthine, Warden Commander of Ferelden." I took a deep breath as I walked into the vast throne room of the royal palace.

It had not taken Sybille long to arrange an audience. She seemed slightly surprised that Celene had agreed to meet me the following day, after Sybille had lodged her request with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Of course, it was a public audience, and I would be just one of many supplicants the Empress would see that day. Still, Sybille seemed to take it as a strongly positive sign that she had not chosen to keep me waiting.

As accustomed to dealing with royalty as I am—and I had met three monarchs before and helped to place two of them on their thrones—I was still awed by my first sight of the Empress. Perhaps I would have felt less exposed if Alistair had been allowed to accompany me, but the instructions had been clear: only I was to enter the royal chamber. She sat on a golden throne inlaid with jewels, raised on a dais high above the rest of her court. Her pale hair was coiled high above her head and so embedded with strings of pearls that no crown was needed. The room was filled with her courtiers, and as I slowly walked forward as directed by the herald, I noticed that not one of them, not even Sybille, was looking at me: they all watched her grey eyes to see how she was reacting. The Empress was the central figure of the Game; I a mere piece to be played. Her self posession was daunting, and though I knew it had to be a façade, at least in part, that did not detract from its effectiveness.

I knelt before her. "Thank you for granting me this audience, Your Majesty."

"You may rise, Commander. We understand that you wish me to convey a message. We are not accustomed to being employed to run errands. We are not certain if we should be offended or amused by such impertinence."

The court giggled. I smiled nervously myself—it was a peculiar request—then schooled my features. "Believe me, I intended no offense Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I have great need to contact…a certain person, and I have no other means to do so. I would never have dared to trouble Your Majesty for trivial reasons."

"Were it not for your illustrious reputation, We would not have deigned to even entertain this audience, Commander. For it seems to us that the Lady Morrigan could have communicated with you at any time should she wish to do so? Your whereabouts at the Warden post in Amaranthine are hardly secret." At the mention of Morrigan's name, I felt the Divine's hard eyes on me, but I ignored her. I had hoped that Celene would not mention her by name.

"That is so, Your Majesty. The Lady Morrigan has not chosen to stay in contact with me, although I assure Your Majesty that we parted as friends. And it is as a friend that I have information that I am certain that she needs and would want to know."

"And what information would this be, Commander."

I blinked. "It is of a highly confidential and personal nature and I can hardly speak of it before the court, Your Majesty."

"Ah, so you wish to further inconvenience us with a private audience, to impart this information. We must inform you that we rarely give private audiences, and never lightly."

My mouth went dry. "I intend only to pass this knowledge to Morrigan, herself. Your Majesty."

Her eyes widened and she spoke with cold, though possibly feigned, fury. "There are no secrets kept from me within my Empire, Commander."

I took a deep breath. "At the risk of making Your Majesty more irate, I must point out that this is not so. The Chantry and its Templars have secrets that are kept from all outside, as do the Circle of Mages…and the Grey Wardens."

"Then you intend to betray the Warden's secrets not to me, but to the Lady Morrigan?"

_Had she been talking to Yves?_ Before thinking, I snapped "After what I have done for the past six years, I am not accustomed to defending my integrity as a Warden." The court gasped—people did not take that tone with the Empress. I winced, thinking that I would likely pay for this misstep.

"Indeed?" she asked. A slight smile flickered across her face and was gone. Yves had spoken to her. I was sure of it. "It might be amusing to challenge your honor, have our champion fight you or your Alistair for the court's entertainment, and see some of your legendary skills on display."

She studied me for a moment and I struggled to maintain my composure under that searching stare. Her tone suddenly softer, she said, "However, We are certain that a man of your reputed quality can provide greater entertainment in other ways. A few minutes ago, you smiled briefly. We would like to see you smile again, Commander. Smile for us."

Totally caught off guard, it took a moment for me to muster an awkward smile.

"Yes," she responded with a knowing smile of her own. "We have made our decision. We will assist you in conveying a message to the Lady Morrigan, though we cannot promise that she will see you."

My mouth dropped open in surprise. "Thank you, Your Majesty," I stammered.

"You will, of course, be required to assist us in some fashion, in return for this service. Do not worry, it will not interfere with your main calling." The peculiar emphasis she placed on the final word made me wonder just how much she knew about the Wardens. "You may go, Commander. Instructions as to how to deliver the message and what you will do for us in return will be sent to you at the Comtesse de Montfleurie's estate."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." I knelt down in front of her once more, and walked out of the throne room. As I left, the only possible explanation for her behavior occurred to me. The smile had tipped her off. She had just realized that I was the father of Morrigan's child.

"So how did your audience with the Empress go?" asked Leliana over dinner.

I thought about that for a moment. "Well, it could have gone much worse. She agreed to help me get a message to Morrigan. I think she learned more from me than I wanted her to, however.

"Oh, she does that to everyone," observed Sybille. "I thought it went brilliantly for you." She studied me in the candlelight. "Is it that scar on your chin, I wonder? I've never seen anybody get so much out of a smile from the Empress before, particularly after making her angry. I suppose she must plan to take you as a lover."

"What?" exclaimed Alistair.

"I do hope not. Given that I have limited experience and less success with women, I suspect I would be a disappointment to her…and I can't think that disappointing the Empress would be advantageous."

"Some women might feel that inexperience lends a man a certain appeal, you know," commented Leliana.

"Then I suppose I should be thankful I did not bring Alistair along on this occasion." I put a hand on Alistair's muscular thigh. "My dear, if it will ease your mind I suspect her majesty's interest in my smile was not carnal. As I said, I believe she learned something that I did not intend her to—but it may be why she was willing to help." _I'll explain later_, I whispered to Alistair.


	19. Memories: A Rose in the Darkness

MEMORIES: A ROSE IN THE DARKNESS

Later that evening, we were all gathered in Sybille's sitting room when she asked, "So—when did you and Alistair become lovers?"

I chuckled. "Well, it was quite a process, I must say. It began in my mind when I was away from him, at the Circle Tower. When we returned with the mages to expel Connor's demon, Alistair looked so…delighted, almost childish. I wanted to hug him.

After clearing up Redcliffe's problems, I really expected Bann Teagan to take our case to the Landsmeet. I was quite annoyed with his insistence that only his brother had enough pull to do it. After all, from what I've heard, Teagan was the one who stood up to Loghain when he declared himself Regent, and enough banns were inspired by that to rise up in arms! But no, we had to go chasing after the Sacred Ashes when he himself was skeptical they could be found, or that they would work. I see you shaking your head at my lack of faith again, Leli, but really—they had been lost for centuries. I wasn't pleased by the idea that we should go chasing after legends under the circumstances.

The other thing was that the only lead we had on them was in Denerim. I was worried about whether we could go there safely, with Loghain's men hunting us. Besides, I knew we would need to go to Orzammar eventually and since we were already in the west, I decided to head for the Frostback Mountains. Eamon's condition appeared to be stable, so I decided that looking for the ashes could wait. Besides, it was nearly Harvestmere and I wanted to get the dwarves' aid before winter set in. Gherlon's Pass can be snowed in for months.

What does all this have to do with me and Alistair? Well, I think it was as we were leaving Redcliffe that I had the conversation about…lamp posts. And as I said before, the choice of image—and how embarrassed Alistair became when I implied that I was an experienced lamp post licker—made me think that maybe there was a chance…

But I had no idea how to approach him, for not all men welcome the attention of other men. I was afraid he might be repulsed. Oddly enough, I think the newest addition to our company spurred me to make a move…"

"The mage Wynne encouraged you to pursue him?" inquired Sybille.

"No, Zevran. I think we were about halfway to Gherlon's Pass when we were ambushed by a pack of assassins. I'm still not quite sure why I spared the lead assasin's life and added him to our company. I suppose I was touched by his story of growing up as a slave, sold to the Crows…I hope it wasn't just the flattery."

"It did seem a risky move at the time," commented Alistair.

"Yes, you were none too pleased, as I recall. Zevran flattered me and made it clear that he fancied me from the start. I had never met anyone who was quite so…forward with other men—well, with women, too. It's kind of hard to explain, if you haven't met him…"

"I have met him," said Sybille. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Seeing my look of surprise, Leliana explained, "Zevran was in Val Royeaux last year. He assisted me with a…problem we were having, actually."

I chose not to pry. "He's not still here, is he? Are _all_ of us in Orlais, now?"

She shook her head. "Last I heard, he was in Kirkwall. He doesn't tend to stay in one place very long."

"No, I suppose not. I guess I felt that if he could be so open with me, a man he had just met, surely I could hint to Alistair that I found him appealing as more than a friend. I was so nervous about being rejected, but shortly before we reached Gherlon's Pass, I gathered up my courage and told him I thought he was handsome. And he got so _flustered_."

"Well, I was just not expecting it at all. I mean, it wasn't like I was used to getting compliments like that."

"But you had to know that you were a handsome man."

Leliana giggled. "Maybe not. I've never known a man more oblivious to his own charms. I remember when we were in Denerim how he never seemed to notice all the young girls bumping into market stalls and dropping buckets of water when he walked nearby or glanced at them."

"I'm sure that never happened. If it did, I'm sure they were looking at Aedan. Anyway, nobody told me I was handsome in the Chantry and the women who did on the street were not…respectable people. Not like Aedan. Besides, when he left me and _Morrigan_ at the Circle Tower, I thought maybe he wanted some time alone with you, Leli."

"Really?" That anyone would think that had never crossed my mind. "Well, to get back to my story, there were a few problems getting to Orzammar….bounty hunters and some fool ambassador from 'King Loghain' who insisted on attacking us when the dwarven guard elected to let us in, but not him.

For the Dwarves were not letting anyone in—it was only because I was a Grey Warden that it was permitted. A few weeks before we arrived, their King had died and the Assembly had been unable to choose a new one, deadlocked between supporters of Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont. Naturally, with no King, there was no one who could authorize sending troops to aid Ferelden. In a pattern that was becoming irritatingly familiar, there was no way we were going to get any help from the Dwarves unless we solved their problems first.

Seeing that we were desperate to find a way to break the deadlock so that the Dwarves could choose a new King, the seconds of both men lobbied for our support. Bhelen's man wanted us to persuade two of Harrowmont's supporters to switch sides by showing them some documents, while Harrowmont's man wanted us to enter a Proving—a sort of tournament—on his behalf.

Bhelen's task sounded easier and I might well have taken it except that I spoke to the Shaper—I don't know what you would call him, sort of the like the Divine for the Dwarves, but not exactly—and showed him the documents, which he told me were forgeries. He also told me things about Bhelen, that gave me pause, that made me think he would be a tyrant. I've often wondered now if I should have trusted him. In retrospect, it occurred to me that—if the Criers could be believed—Bhelen wanted to bring big changes to Orzammar and the Shaper was a very conservative dwarf. And Maker knows, Orzammar could use some changes."

"Bhelen was a snake!" objected Alistair. "He had his own _brother_ killed."

"We don't _know_ that." I sighed. "I don't know. I was back in Orzammar on the way here and it seems that Harrowmont didn't work out very well."

"It seems to me," observed Sybille, "that a people who expect a total outsider to choose a King for them deserve what they get."

"You have a point. In any event, I chose Harrowmont and we won the tournament, though the final fight was a difficult one. But that still wasn't enough. It seemed that I would never accomplish anything that year without a lot of killing.

There were the men who attacked us in the commons because I was supporting Harrowmont. The men who attacked us when I was looking for a stolen book from the Shaper's library. Such pointless, stupid deaths. Killing men because they supported a different King when I really knew too little to care who held the crown, killing others over a book. And then Harrowmont wanted me to clear out a cabal of thieves in Dust Town, where all the casteless dwarves live. It felt like we killed half of Dust Town.

And even that was not enough. He was convinced the only way he could get the Assembly on his side was if a Paragon—it's a little like being an Anointed for us, only it happens while they're still alive—crowned him. But Orzammar had only one living Paragon and she had disappeared into the Deep Roads with her entire noble house a few years earlier.

How were we to find her? Her husband, Oghren, a drunken and disgraced Warrior said he knew what she sought in the Deep Roads, and that would help us find her. We followed his lead into the endless dark tunnels.

I remember being shocked by the amount of food the dwarf insisted we take with us. I had no conception of how vast the Roads were and no way of guessing how far we traveled. We may have been under Val Royeaux for all I know. There was no way to measure time, for there was no sunlight. When we were too tired to go on, we found out of the way, easily defensible caverns and slept for a time. Did this happen twice a day or once every three days? I have no idea. We couldn't usually make a fire. Sometimes there were enough axe handles and darkspawn bows to burn, but most of the time we slept in the cold and dark, or sometimes in the heat, for rivers of lava flow in some places.

Branka—that was the name of the Paragon—was not the only dwarf lost in the Deep Roads. Before we had left Orzammar, a woman had asked us to look for her son, Ruck, who had been lost there five years earlier. I told her we would find news of him if we could, though it seemed unlikely. We did find him, however…"

"He was dead?" asked Sybille.

I shook my head. "Would that he were. No, he had…eaten of flesh tainted by the Darkspawn. I supposed he must have been starving. But it's a poison, it changes a man. He was mad, barely a dwarf any more. He was still able to remember his mother but begged us to tell her he was dead…there was enough left of him for that."

"The next time we rested, not far from where we found Ruck, I think I was about as discouraged as I ever became that year. We still had found no sign of Branka, though traveling in the Darkness for weeks. I feared that by the time we found her and managed to crown Harrowmont…if we did…Ferelden would already be overrun by the Darkspawn. And encountering Ruck had been…troubling." All the more so because it felt like a preview of what I had in store for me toward the end of my own life. I remember him saying that he saw the darkness in me, and shuddered, even now. I opened a leather pouch that I always kept at my belt. "I was sitting staring into the campfire—we had one on that occasion-when Alistair gave me…this."

"You still have it?"

"I had it gilded in Orzammar, to preserve it," I said laying the golden rose on the table.

Leliana gave me a sidelong glance. "That seems…unusually sentimental for you, Aedan. I remember thinking when you sold your family sword that you were not a man for such things."

"Well, we needed the coin then, and maybe I didn't want to be reminded of a life that I could never have. Whereas with this rose, I'd have something to remember him by if…well, we all passed within a bad stumble or a missed parry of death many times."

Leliana stared at the rose and her expression suddenly changed. "Alistair, how did you have a rose with you in the Deep Roads? Where did you get it?"

"I picked it in the Chantry garden in Lothering. I probably should have left it, but…"

Her eyes widened. "It _is_ that rose. Aedan, this is the rose that bloomed when I had my dream, the one that convinced me that I had to follow you."

I had never made that connection before. "I remember thinking it strange how it retained its freshness and beauty for so long after being picked."

"It was no ordinary rose. May I?" she reached out to take the rose from the table to look at it more closely. "It must have been meant to be…how else could this bloom was entwined with all three of our fates?"

Four fates, I thought, but did not say. Morrigan might never have had her daughter had I not received the rose. Somehow I found it hard to think that had been part of the 'Maker's plan.'

Sybille broke in, "So that's when you and Alistair became lovers?"

I chuckled. "Not exactly. Despite his avowed desire to move on from the awkward phase to the steamy bits, I didn't even get a kiss."

"Well, I was so nervous. I don't think I would even have approached you then except you seemed so down. I wanted to do something to tell you that I appreciated you, that I believed in you, that it wasn't all for nothing, but the physical part was still so strange to me. I didn't know what men did together…Well, I suppose I did know, but I'd only heard of it through vulgar jokes. It didn't sound very…loving, or enjoyable for both partners. So I was still a bit afraid. I knew that it felt good to be near you and I wanted to touch you, but I didn't know if I really wanted you that way."

"So my chantry-raised boy retained his innocence a little longer—actually a lot longer-not by _my_ choice I must add. There were times when I even thought of lying with Zevran…"

"Really? Would you really have done that? I know you were friendlier with him than me, maybe because you had more in common, but I didn't think you were _that_ close."

"I was not, but we were not all raised in the Chantry, my dear. But you were worth waiting for. And I do think that we became…_us_ when you gave me this. And so, Sybille, that's the story of how we became lovers."


	20. Palais de Montfleurie:  A Trivial Task

VAL ROYEAUX: A TRIVIAL TASK

The following day, I was informed by Sybille's doorman that the Lady Therese la Rousse, one of Sybille's ladies-in-waiting, had come to see me. It was made clear to me that it was to be a private meeting, so I received her in our guest room while Alistair sparred with Rogier in the courtyard. One of the servants left a flask of wine and a bowl of peaches for us, then left us alone.

Madame La Rousse was tall, slim woman in a crimson gown. After a brief introduction—it was clear she was not interested in wasting time—she asked me for the message I wished to send to Morrigan.

I had already written it. It was a vague and brief message, owing to my suspicion that its contents would not be kept secret, but I hoped there would be enough that Morrigan would respond:

_Dear Morrigan,_

_I know that you told me not to seek me out when last we spoke, but I have learned something of great importance to you. I cannot write of it in this letter, but must speak to you in person. Something has begun happening that you are not aware of, and I suspect you may soon be in danger from an unexpected source. I am in Val Royeaux now and am eager to see you as soon as possible._

_Your Friend, Aedan_

I passed the sealed letter to the Lady Therese. "How long will this take to reach her?"

"You should expect at least two days before a response, as she is some distance from the city." I nodded. "And you do understand that Her Majesty will require a service from you.?"

I sighed and nodded.

"The message will be dispatched to Morrigan on your good faith, but you shall not have her response until you have satisfactorily completed your task. However, she has confidence that you can succeed in this tonight, in fact."

"Tonight?" My brow furrowed. I could not think of any critical engagements this evening. I did not expect Enrique back from Coteaux du Roche today.

"This evening, shortly after sunset, we believe that a hooded woman will enter the home of the Nevarran Ambassador for a romantic tryst. She has taken a number of steps to conceal her identity. Her majesty requires that you give as detailed a description as you can and, if possible, report what name the Ambassador addresses her by."

"So will that require breaking into the house and waiting in a concealed location for her to take off her hood? It would seem more efficient to ambush her before she enters the house and pull back the hood. Unless she is very well guarded, I expect I could accomplish that and escape."

She shook her head. "No. It is Her Majesty's intention that the woman not know that her identity has been revealed or that the Ambassador's household security was compromised. Therefore, you must avoid being seen and leave no trace of your passing. If it must come to a choice between discovery and abandoning the task unfinished, abandon it. Some other task or another opportunity to complete this one will be given. Her Majesty is given to understand that you have exceptional skill in stealth and believes that you are capable of this. Must I inform her that you cannot perform as asked?"

"No, I—will attempt this. I cannot be certain of results without any knowledge of the security of the Ambassador's house, but I will try." Fortunately, the nobility had a habit of trusting more in guards than in locks. While I have some lockpicking skill, complex mechanical devices tend to defeat me; I relied mostly on Leliana for such things during the Blight. Guards, however, I was quite good at evading, especially human ones, and in Orlais there was little risk of encountering Mabari. "May I have assistance in this matter?" Leliana would be a useful ally, if she were willing.

She shook her head vigorously. "No. Nor may you inform any others of your mission. It must be you alone."

I sighed. "Very well."

"Here is the location of the house and a rough sketch of the courtyard and what we know of its interior. Please inform me of the success or failure of your mission tomorrow morning. Do this, and you may be sure that you will receive the Lady Morrigan's response to your message."

Our business concluded, I saw the Lady Therese to the palace gate. When I turned back toward the house, I saw Leliana standing on the terrace. She waved as I approached.

"Ah, so your message is on its way to our old friend and Celene has asked you to do something. I don't suppose you will tell me what she has asked you to do."

"I'm afraid I am not to divulge the details."

"I thought as much. Be…careful, Aedan. She is subtle and her intensions are almost always more ambitious than they appear."

"It appears only an attempt to gather a little court gossip," I said, though I knew that an ambassador's affairs were of interest for more reasons than mere gossip.

She looked at me closely. "Gossip is knowledge and knowledge is power in the right hands. Still, I wish you good luck, my friend."

I went back to my room to lay out the things I might need for the night's work. The felon's coat, a grappling hook, rope, a container of lard I had borrowed from the kitchen, and a few darts with tips coated with a concentrated sleep drug that Zevran had shown me how to make. A crack of thunder sounded from outside. I frowned—rain might make things more difficult—and decided I would need to take a towel.

Hearing Alistair's armor clanking toward the door, I placed these things in my pack and turned to greet him as he entered. He had just finished his exercises and I could smell the fresh sweat on his body. As always, I found the scent curiously arousing. "I thought you might need a little help out of your mail".

He chuckled and bent his head to kiss my lips. "And here I thought I was coming back to the room for a rest."

"You can have your nap afterward, my dear." I pulled him closer to me and shut the door behind him.

Later, as we were lying together, I mentioned that I would have to go out this evening to perform a service Celene had requested in return for sending my message to Morrigan.

"Can't I come with you?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid it will require stealth, which is not your _forte_, my love." He frowned slightly. "Don't worry, it's just a spying mission, to gather some gossip to broker. I shouldn't be in any danger."

"Won't you need a lookout?"

"I'm afraid I have to go alone this time, my dear. I can't so easily avoid being followed with you around, and it's important to Celene that I obtain this information without discovery."

I could tell he wanted to ask what I would be doing. He hesitated, then started to open his mouth, but I stopped him from speaking with a long kiss.


	21. Maison de Nevarra:  Hooded Women

MAISON DE NEVARRA; HOODED WOMEN

I went out shortly after dusk. The skies had cleared and a full moon shone in the west, casting long shadows across the rain-drenched streets. I stared up at it as I exited the gates of the Palais, thinking that it might be difficult to approach the Ambassador's home from the western side in such bright moonlight.

One advantage of all my aimless wandering over the past days was that I knew my way around the city quite well. I could travel almost all the way to the ambassador's house using deeply shadowed backstreets and alleys. Although the gates to Sybille's home were always watched, I was certain that no one would be able to determine where I had gone, only when I left, and when I returned.

The Ambassador's house backed onto a bluff on the river bank. The front gates faced the broad avenue that led to the Grand Market. I would be very exposed if I tried to enter the house from that side, so I made my way down to the river to view the approach from the east. There was a steep track down from the house to a small dock. I wondered if the Ambassador viewed it as a quick escape route, if things became dangerous in Val Royeaux. Relations between Nevarra and Orlais were always testy, and war could break out at any time. It looked like a perfect access route to the house.

It proved somewhat less perfect than I imagined. It was _very_ dark, which was good for approaching unseen, but made for difficult footing on a steep, slippery track. I was fortunate that the bushes that grew on the hillside were strong enough to bear my weight. Several times on my way up the bluff, I was saved from an ignominious fall into the river by clinging to the shrubbery.

When I reached the top, I found myself outside a low wall encircling the house. The moonlight was completely blocked by the house from this direction. I clambered up the wall, then lay flat on top of it and surveyed the landscape. There was a small orchard between the wall and the house. As I waited and watched, I saw two guards who appeared to be walking around the perimeter of the house. Although they carried torches, the trees would offer plenty of concealment if I timed my movements carefully.

As they finished their circuit of this side of the estate, I dropped down to the ground and moved into the orchard to get a good view of the house. One advantage of summer was that I was sure not all the windows would be shuttered. After toweling the mud off my boots as much as possible, I studied the house, looking for telltale light indicating a shutter not completely closed and latched. I spotted two on the first floor and one on the second. The ones on the ground floor had so much light emerging from them that I was certain someone was in those rooms, so I set my sights on the upper floor. I waited, hidden in the trees, while the guards made another circuit of the orchard, then made my move. I could have climbed up the wall unaided, but decided a rope would be quicker. I threw the rope upward, securing a hold on the windowsill with a grappling hook, and climbed up the wall.

As I expected, the shutters were almost fully closed, but not latched. I opened them cautiously and peered into the room. No one was in the small bedroom. The light I had seen was filtering in through the door, which was slightly ajar. I entered the room, pulled up my rope and closed the shutters behind me. I doubted that the guards would notice the rope, but it was best to err on the side of caution.

I crept across the room and peeked through the open door. Beyond lay a gallery surrounding a great hall. I guessed that it had once been an open-air courtyard, but it now had a high ceiling with elaborately carved and painted woodwork. I relaxed thinking how the colonnade supporting the ceiling would make it easy to stay hidden and survey the central room. Better still, the gallery was carpeted; my footsteps would be silenced.

I heard voices and was startled to hear one that sounded like Leliana. I moved across the gallery and peered to the hall below. A man—the Nevarran Ambassador I presumed from his formal clothes—was speaking to the woman whose voice I had heard, and whose face was shadowed by a hood. After seeing her more clearly, despite the hood, I knew it could not be Leliana. The similarity of voice was a coincidence. This was a much older woman, leaning on a cane, and with tendrils of gray hair escaping from under the hood. She seemed to be leaving. Was I too late? There was little I could do if the information I had been given was wrong. I could not hope to make my way to the front gate without being seen in time to follow her.

But just as I was despairing, a second hooded woman entered the great hall. She was greeted with a warm embraced by the ambassador and kissed the other woman on both cheeks in greeting. They were too far away for me to pick up what they were saying. I hoped the newcomer was the one I had been asked to identify. Curse Orlais and its plots and counterplots. How many secret visitors could one man have in the same night?

I waited to see what they would do. After the grey-haired lady hobbled out, leaning on her cane, the ambassador and the other woman ascended the staircase in the center of the room, reaching the gallery on the opposite side from me, a servant trailing behind them. I watched as they entered a door and shut it behind them. Much to my annoyance, she kept the hood up the entire time and I still had not caught a glimpse of her face. Worse, rather than being off about his business, the ambassador's manservant waited outside the door. How was I going to see the woman clearly enough to describe her? All I knew of her was that she was of average height and voluptuous build.

At first, I thought the servant would surely leave soon. I crept along the gallery toward him and waited. Fortunately, there was not much activity in the house at this time of night. Sometimes there were people in the great hall, but they were not looking up at the gallery. Two people came up the stairs and went into rooms adjoining the gallery to turn in for the night, but I had no difficulty avoiding being seen. After some time, I noticed that there was a small chamber pot by the door; the man could stay there all night, if required.

I decided I would have to take action. I waited until I could see no one else about, then crawled to the column nearest the servant and threw one of my darts, catching him in the back of the neck. He would feel no more than a needle prick because the drug numbed pain as well as inducing sleep. After a few minutes, he slumped against the wall. I applied a small amount of healing poultice to close the tiny wound made by the dart, then maneuvered him into a nearby chair. I listened carefully at the door. They were awake and talking, but sounded sleepy. Perhaps they had already made love. I decided the woman was called Jehannette, though other names were mentioned in conversation. I paid close attention but understood little of what was said. There was much talk of people I didn't know, and some of estates and titles. At last, their conversation stopped and no more light showed beneath the door. They must have put out the torches. I waited for a while to let them fall asleep, but not too long, as I did not want the sleeping servant to be discovered.

When sufficient time had passed, I applied some lard to the hinges of the door to limit any squeaking, and tried the knob, hoping it would not be locked. I was in luck. I opened the door and crept in, closing it softly behind me. Their window was completely shuttered and it was so dark that I could not see where the bed was, even after letting my eyes adjust. I had to move with great care to avoid bumping into anything in the dark with enough force to make noise. The woman was no more than five feet away from me—I could hear both of them breathing—but I couldn't see her, much less describe her.

There was only one thing I could do. The window was visible by the tiny amount of light in the crack between the shutters. I made my way over to it, smeared some lard on the hinges, unlatched the shutters and opened one of them. I was careful not to let the light fall directly onto the bed where it might disturb them. The moonlight filtering into the room gave me just enough illumination to see this Jehannette.

She lay curled up beside the ambassador, her heavy breasts exposed because she had pulled the bedclothes down. She wouldn't be so hot if they had left the shutters open, I thought with irritation. Her hair was long and light in color—blonde or light brown mixed with gray? She was probably in her late forties, a little older than Sybille, and her face was round, her nose prominent and sharp, though not unattractive. She had a mole on her left cheek.

My task completed, I closed the shutters and left the room. The ambassador's manservant still sat in the chair, fast asleep, his breathing steady. I made my way back to where I had entered the house—I supposed it must be a guest room that was not currently in use—and looked out into the orchard, watching for the guards making their rounds. After they had passed, I climbed out the window, dropped down to the ground and rolled, then clambered over the wall. The mission had been a complete success. The only little slip had been the manservant, but surely a servant with such a duty falling asleep would not arouse any suspicion. I made my way back to the Palais de Montfleurie confident of a job well done.

Sybille's guards seemed surprised to see me returning so late, but recognized me and let me in. Alistair was waiting for me in the entry hall, pacing. He broke into a relieved smile when I entered.

"Oh, Aedan, I'm so glad to see you. You were gone so long, I got worried…."

I chuckled and embraced him. "You shouldn't have stayed up for me." I chided him "How could you doubt that I would return, with such a beautiful man waiting here?"

"Was there…trouble?"

I shook my head. "Not that kind of trouble. It just took a while before I had a chance to see what I needed to see. But I should be able to get my response from Morrigan now."

"You think she'll agree to see you?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I hope so, but Morrigan is difficult and stubborn. But I've done all I can tonight. Let's go to bed."


	22. Memories:  Something Worse Than Death

MEMORIES: SOMETHING WORSE THAN DEATH

"So did you find your paragon in the Deep Roads? Leli's never really talked about that," Sybille asked over breakfast the next morning.

"I can understand why she would rather not. The short answer is yes."

She arched an eyebrow. "You don't really think I'm going to let you off that easily?"

I took a deep breath. "Very well, if you must know. Shortly after Alistair gave me the rose, in a part of the Deep Roads that had become the nest of a huge pack of giant spiders, Oghren found a journal that Branka had written. The journal told us that she had found a clue to the location of the Anvil of the Void, an ancient artifact that the dwarves had used to forge an army of golems. She had gone to Bownammar, the ancient dwarven necropolis to seek it.

Bownammar lay far into the Deep Roads, beyond the defenses of the Legion of the Dead. The Legion are a sort of military order of the dwarves dedicated to fighting the Darkspawn, called "the Dead" because they are expected never to return to Orzammar. They actually hold funerals for them when they join. And so we followed Oghren's lead even farther from the surface and weeks dragged on into months in the darkness. Though as I've said before, we had no real way to keep track of time.

We encountered the legion defending a bridge across a vast chasm. I inquired whether they had any knowledge of Branka without much hope. They did not, and their leader scoffed at me for embarking on such a fool's errand. Beyond, they told me, there was nothing to be found but more Darkspawn.

I could not really disagree with his assessment, but having come so far, I was not going to turn back without trying to determine her fate, though my hopes of saving Ferelden had receded to a dream by then. We fought our way across the bridge and into Bownammar. The ancient fortress, filled with the tombs of dwarven heroes, was crawling with Darkspawn, even as the Legion had told us. But in some tunnels beyond the fortress, we made a discovery that I don't think any other Wardens had ever made. Or at least returned alive to Weisshaupt, if they did.

The Wardens have known for some time that there are hideous creatures known as Brood Mothers that give birth to the Darkspawn. They are huge—dozens of times the size of a man—and have amorphous bodies with many breasts and a head that spits acid. They are rarely seen, being hidden away in the tunnels of the Deep Roads, but they had been reported before. Some had even postulated some connection between the different types of Darkspawn and mortal races—Hurlocks and humans, Genlocks and dwarves. But what we learned was the _process_ by which Brood Mothers are created. It's not pleasant. Are you certain you want to hear this?

It was described to us first by a voice whose speaker we could not see, ahead of us in the tunnels. I have never forgotten her words, though we did not understand what we were hearing at the time:

_"First day, they come and catch everyone._  
_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat._  
_Third day, the men are all gnawed on again._  
_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._  
_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._  
_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams._  
_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._  
_Eighth day, we hated as she is violated._  
_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._  
_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."_

We eventually caught up with the speaker, a dwarf named Hespith who had been Branka's captain…and her lover. She was obviously very far gone with Darkspawn taint, even farther than Ruck, but she retained enough sense to make us understand that the poem described what had become of the remains of Branka's house, what had happened to a dwarf named Laryn, and what was happening to her. Genlocks come from dwarven women who are tainted and force-fed until they became monsters. Beyond a certain point, they are completely one of the Darkspawn…Hespith said that Laryn had torn off her husband's face and drunk his blood.

I am sorry, but I did warn you. At first, we thought that this had happened to Branka, but Hespith told us that Branka had allowed this to happen. To the women of her _own house_. But she did assure us that Branka was still alive, though I no longer was anxious to meet this so-called Paragon.

I don't know what happened to Hespith. I would have slain her after talking to her had I had the chance—it was the only mercy I could offer-but she ran off beyond the Brood Mother who had once been Laryn. We were not able to find her after slaying it. I hope that she found a way to make an end before becoming one of them.

I would have looked for her, except that beyond the Brood Mother, we found Branka. Or rather, Branka found us. And explained why she had allowed this…this atrocity. If there could be any explanation beyond madness. She had almost found the Anvil, but it lay in a cavern complex that was filled with traps. Obsessed with getting her hands on it, rather than working out some way to dismantle the traps, or, Maker, even tunneling through the damn walls past them—she had _three hundred dwarves_ with her, after all—she had used her people as fodder to activate the traps. When she began to run out of dwarves, and they had quite understandably started to rebel against her, she hit upon a plan to use the Darkspawn…but she needed many Darkspawn. And so she allowed them to make obscene horrors of her kin.

How did she intend to get the Darkspawn to do her bidding? By trapping them, sealing them the entry to the complex behind them—much as she did us. Of course, she was on a high ledge above us where we could not get to her, so—like the Darkspawn—we had no choice but to venture forward.

Perhaps most of the traps had already been sprung by the time we got there, for we encountered little more than Darkspawn. There was one room with vents that spewed a noxious gas and a few golems, and another with a huge machine that seemed to spawn spirits, but we soon found our way to the Anvil. And, much to our shock, to its maker, the paragon Caridin and a number of golems: the Anvil's last defenders.

Caridin had forged the Anvil, and the dwarves' golem army, at the time of the First Blight many centuries ago. He had disappeared shortly after and been presumed dead—but in fact, he had been transformed into a golem as punishment. For he had told his king he would make no more golems. Why not? Because golems are made at the cost of a life lost in excruciating pain, and a soul enslaved. Caridin begged us to help him destroy the Anvil, so that no more might be made. Apparently, he could not destroy it himself.

But by now Branka had made her way there, and come to claim her prize. Only over her dead body would I be allowed to deprive her of the prize for which she had given the lives and the—souls—of her clan. She had a rod for controlling golems that allowed her to deactivate Caridin and seize control of several of his golems. It was one of the most difficult fights I have ever been in. I think Wynne revived me from the brink of death with her magic twice. If I recall correctly, Leliana was the last one standing that day, isn't that right my dear? Sometimes it pays to be firing from a distance.

It was partly that Branka was an astonishing fighter, better by far than her formidable husband, though he was of a warrior clan and she a smith. And she had lived so long in the Deep Roads that I think the lyrium had given her…strange abilities. I know dwarves are supposed to be nonmagical and immune to its effects but it seemed to me that at times there were three or four of her. I can't explain it.

Oghren? Yes, he fought on our side against his wife, though he had tried to persuade me to change my mind. I'm not sure I fully understand why he took our side. She _had _left him, but it was clear that he still had feelings for her, crazed though she was. Maybe he just saw that it was _right_. I still feel badly that he had to participate, though. I cannot feel badly for slaying her. I don't think I have ever been as angry at anyone as I was at her, not Loghain, not Zathrian—oh, we'll get to him, believe me—not even Howe. I agree with Hespith. She cannot be forgiven. Enough! I don't want to talk about her any more.

I did as Caridin asked, though not without misgivings. The anvil was an evil thing—can you imagine being a slave to the whims of anyone who held a control rod for a thousand years?—but I could not help thinking that it might be our salvation against the Blight. If we had failed, I would have rued that decision and wondered…but I think most of us agreed that it was the right thing to do. Not Morrigan, of course.

I had hoped the long lost paragon would return to Orzammar with me when it was finished, but he was determined to make an end to his extended existence. But he did forge a crown for me that was enough that most of the Assembly accepted Harrowmont as King. Not Bhelen, though—he fought to seize the crown by force. And failed. And died.

And so I left Orzammar at last, with the agreement of the dwarves to aid Ferelden against the Blight. We had spent the whole winter in the darkness and when we emerged at last into the light, the sun and sky were almost as great a shock to me as to Oghren, who had never seen them before. Yes, he decided to join us. I suppose he had little left to keep in Orzammar now. He had lost his honor and status as a warrior in an accident on the Proving Grounds, and now he had lost his wife.

We descended from the mountains and hurried to Redcliffe to learn what we could, fearing the worst. I was delighted to find that the Darkspawn had not overwhelmed Ferelden as rapidly as I had feared. Though many areas of the south were blighted, it seemed that the Archdemon had not yet appeared and the Darkspawn were roving the land in disorganized packs, not moving with dangerous purpose. There was still time.

Eamon's condition remained unchanged, and Teagan was still unconvinced of his ability to act in his stead. I still had one last treaty to seek out—the Dalish Elves. However, I decided that finding a Dalish clan to honor it might take some time, as their camps migrate over time. We agreed to see if we could find the ashes. I still had my doubts…

But I have to admit that after Orzammar, I started to believe a little more that this was a war we could win. Part of it was my growing confidence in the abilities of our little team, but I think part of it was my beloved. His belief in me helped me believe in myself. Oh, my love, I had doubts, believe me, I had doubts. I still do…but it was in Redcliffe that I first tasted his lips. He actually initiated it, though I was amused when he asked if it had been too soon. I told him that we needed to try it a few more times to be sure. It would have been better had he not been wearing armor..."

"It would certainly have been less uncomfortable for me," said Alistair, flushing slightly.

"I still was wary about going to Denerim, under the circumstances, though Teagan assured me that few people really believed Loghain's lies about the Wardens. But after surviving the Deep Roads, my fear was—not gone, certainly—but less urgent.

But I am afraid that the Quest for the Sacred Ashes will have to wait for another day, my friends. There are some things I need to do before we head over to _Le Cheval Blanc_ to see Enrique."


	23. Le Cheval Blanc: The Dreams of Wardens

LE CHEVAL BLANC: THE DREAMS OF WARDENS

After taking my leave of the others, I walked over to the Palais Royeaux. It lay on a different hill than Sybille's palace and the Grand Cathedral, higher, further north along the river, and separated from the Holy Hill by a narrow valley that was a center of trade and mercantile activity. As I climbed the hill, I noticed a great many people on the flat land adjacent to the river to my right. I recalled that the Midsummer Festival began tomorrow and supposed that they were preparing the grounds for it. Although I had pictured it primarily as a tournament, based on how Gilbert de Val Foret had described it at Sybille's dinner, I later learned that it was much more. It coincided with the most important merchant's fair in Orlais and there were special chants for pilgrims during the fortnight as well.

I identified myself to the palace guards, and was escorted to a chamber where Madame La Rousse awaited. I passed on the information I had learned and she nodded, showing no sign of surprise. It seemed that she knew exactly who I was describing. She thanked me for the precise details in my portrayal, and seemed satisfied that the sleeping servant outside the Ambassador's door had not raised suspicions. I was assured that my message was on its way if it had not already been delivered, and I would be informed of the Lady Morrigan's response to my letter as soon as it arrived.

Afterword, I met up with my friends at _Le Cheval Blanc, _which was even livelier than usual. Merchants and performers from all over Orlais were arriving for the Festival and the common room was crowded with people. Despite the commotion, Thierry still managed to find time to greet and seat our party with great efficiency and courtesy and it was not long before we were ushered down to the cellar for our meeting with Enrique.

As we waited for him in the dank underground chamber, I leafed through the botanical treatise while Alistair laid out maps of the area around Val Royeaux on the simple table. It was not long before he appeared. "Good evening, Commander, Alistair" he said in greeting.

"Good evening, Enrique. Was your trip to Coteaux du Roche fruitful?"

He shrugged. "The wardens there were generally happy to tell me of their dreams, though I do not know what you expect me to tell Yves when he asks why I was questioning them. He _will_ learn of this soon enough, you know."

"I expect you'll tell him the truth. By then, I hope to have left Val Royeaux and the situtation will be resolved, one way or the other."

"What if he finds out while you're still here?"

"I'll leave it to your discretion what lie you wish to tell. Maybe claim curiosity on your own, instructions from Weisshaupt that were strangely did not arrive at Coteaux du Roche due to an unreliable messenger. I'm sure you'll think of something. But more important, tell me what you have learned."

He sighed. "I had many dreams described to me, and took careful notes." He handed me a scroll of vellum. "However, I am not sure how much use they will be to you."

I took the scroll. "What impressions did you form of the girl's character as she appears in the dreams."

"She seems like a little girl, perhaps better behaved than most her age. No one has reported anything very remarkable about her, aside from her repeated appearances in their dreams. No one even mentioned her using magic though there are signs that she is being trained for it. The only thing," he commented, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he rubbed his straw-colored beard, "out of the ordinary is that several reported a very strong compulsion to protect her. Three wardens in particular—you'll find the descriptions in the scroll—describe having saved her from danger and feeling like, well, as though they had no choice…"

"Surely protecting a little girl is a natural instinct? I suppose I felt something of the sort when I dreamed of Ostagar and she hid behind me, but it didn't strike me as unusual." Alistair broke in.

"It wouldn't be for you, my dear. Perhaps for others…"

"I'm only reporting. I'll leave interpretation up to you."

"Any darkspawn dreams, other than Alistair's? How does she respond to them? Do they respond to her?"

"One. He said she seemed frightened by them, as you might expect."

"So they don't seem to view her as one of them? She doesn't seem tainted?"

He snorted. "No one recalled sensing the taint one way or the other, but is that something _you_ normally remember from your dreams? And Darkspawn in dreams are not real Darkspawn."

"You're right. I'm just trying to get a feel for what she is. What about clues to where she might be?"

"Sketchy. It seems like she usually enters the Warden's own dreams, and only the first contact dream seems to relate to her. And in most cases that dream was a year ago and hard to remember. I've put all the details down that were reported."

I unraveled the scroll and scanned through it. "This one mentions oak trees. Did he say which variety of oak it was? According to this treatise, the oaks east of Val Royeaux near the coast have a different leaf shape…" I turned back to my treatise looking for the page in question.

"Commander, they're Wardens, not gardeners or lumbermen. He dreamed of trees! I'm surprised anyone remembered enough to distinguish oak from pine in a dream!"

"In Ferelden," observed Alistair without expression, "Wardens are expected to have detailed knowledge of the forest. I was not allowed to undertake my Joining until I had demonstrated that I could identify thirty-seven types of trees that grow in Ferelden."

Unused to my love's sense of humor, he stared at him for a moment, while I chuckled. "You're right, of course. I was just hoping someone would remember something helpful…"

"There was one thing. A warden who grew up just outside the Royal Forest north of Val Royeaux mentioned something that looked to him like a _cornet de marecages_ in his first dream of the girl where she and her mother were crossing a meadow. That's the local name for a sort of steep conical hill that rises out of the swamp, he said."

"How many of them are there? Do you think we could find a map showing them all?"

"I'm not sure. Apparently, they were a fairly common feature of the area and I'm not sure anyone would have cared enough to map them. It's a difficult area to travel—you'd need a boat light enough to carry with a very shallow draft—you could perhaps buy a flat-bottomed _batteaux_ that they row up and down the river. I would guess a thorough search of every _cornet_ would take weeks."

I considered. "We do know that they must be fairly close by, if a messages can be passed back and forth in a few days…but it sounds as though I must hope that Morrigan responds to my letter. This sounds difficult."

"Commander, I must ask: what do you intend to _do_ if you manage to find her?" I felt Alistair's on me, as well.

"I—I'm not sure. I want to know what she is, whether she's really free of the taint, if Morrigan can guarantee that she will stay safe from it. What Morrigan's plans are. I can only assume she is not aware the girl's dreams. I don't imagine the girl understands what she's doing. Perhaps if she did, she could stop…troubling us."

"Or perhaps this Morrigan could use her to control us."

"Do you really think that's possible?" asked Alistair.

"Who can say? The Chantry says the old gods whispered to men in their dreams, just as the Archdemon sings to the Darkspawn. And if she's _not_ tainted, why does she speak to Wardens?"

"The Joining has the Archdemon's blood mixed with that of the Darkspawn…perhaps that is the link? I don't know. Morrigan may understand though, and be able to explain."

"Able to explain, maybe. But willing to explain?"

I could not really argue with Alistair on that point—she had never been keen on explaining herself. "If she understood that the Wardens see her as a danger, she might be persuaded to give us some assurances."

"Perhaps."

"Thank you for your help, Enrique," I said as I rolled up the scroll. "If I have questions about any of this, I shall contact you further. I apologize again for—forcing you to do this."

"I only hope that you know what you're doing, Commander"

I sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing. I am fumbling in the dark and hoping not to do harm. I know the risks are high." I stood up, getting ready to return to the common room. "Well, goodbye. Perhaps I will see you again before I leave Val Royeaux. If not, may the Maker watch over you, brother."


	24. Memories:  A Massacre at Haven

24. MEMORIES: A MASSACRE AT HAVEN

Alistair and I returned to the common room during a lull in the action. Various singers and dancers had been performing all evening, but it seemed that most of them had decided to break for their evening meal and to share flasks of wine with friends. As we sat down at Sybille's table, she turned to me. "We were just talking about the Sacred Ashes. I heard that the chantry sent an expedition a few years back to Haven and they were not there…but Leli swears you found them."

"So we did."

"But how—and where could they have gone?"

"Well, I can tell you how we found them, but as to where they are now," I threw up my hands.

"As I said the other night, Isolde told us that Brother Genitivi had found clues as to Andraste's final resting place, so we went to Denerim to seek him out. But while we were on our way there, the past of a certain vivacious redhead came back to haunt her.

We were ambushed by a small band of mercenaries—rather professional ones, it seemed. At first, I assumed that they had been after Alistair and me, but when I interrogated one of the survivors, I learned it was Leliana they had sought. They seemed unaware that there was a bounty on _our_ heads. That was when she finally told me how she wound up in a Chantry in Lothering…and about Marjolaine, who it seemed resided in Denerim now. I am sure you know the story, so I shall not repeat it.

But that gave us one more…errand to run in Denerim. In fact, there were a number of things to do when we got there. At first, I thought we were walking into grave danger, for there were posters with crude likenesses of us all over Denerim. But it seemed that many had not swallowed Loghain's lies. We had no difficulty buying from the shops and a number of people sought our assistance. Since we could use a little coin to buy better runes for our weapons from the Wonders of Thedas and to feed our seemingly endless need for healing herbs, I did assist a few of them. Besides, I thought there might be some advantage in demonstrating the Warden's good will.

It was an interesting mix of people who sought our aid, ranging from a sergeant of the guard to various underworld elements. One thing that they all seemed to have in common was a distaste for Rendan Howe, who had—to my shock—become Arl of Denerim and Loghain's right-hand man. He styled himself Teyrn of Highever as well, to my fury, for he had circulated the lie that my father had been a traitor! Loghain had allowed him to claim the title of the _traitorous_ Couslands.

Oh, Loghain knew the truth all right. He had had it from my own lips at Ostagar. I have often thought that he encouraged Howe's treachery, as part of his scheme to eliminate powerful political opponents, though I have no proof. In any event, after the disaster at Ostagar, Howe had one of the larger armies remaining in Ferelden. And he had been richly rewarded for his loyalty to Loghain.

And so I ran a few errands while we were in Denerim. I did not want to waste too much time, but killing bandits and intimidating troublesome mercenaries for the guard did not take us long. And it was fascinating how our interests aligned with those of certain groups. The Antivan Crows, of all people, wanted a man dead who had been setting a trap for Grey Warden supporters. He ended up catching somewhat more than he bargained for in his net. Yet the Crows also made another attempt to kill us—an old "friend" of Zevran even tried to convince him to return to them, but fortunately he remained at my side. From what I understand, the Crows treatment of their assassins does not inspire much loyalty. But as I say, we were able to handle these challenges by this point, though I was tired of the constant slaughter wherever we went. I'd have thought that our reputation might have instilled some fear in people by this time. Perhaps Sergeant Kylon was right, and the people who attacked us were simply idiots.

Yes, we paid Marjolaine as a visit and drove her away. I thought we probably should have killed her, as I feared she would never leave Leliana alone. But I felt it was Leliana's call to make and she said nothing and so…away she went. I suppose since you're still here, Leli, it was not too costly a mistake."

"Marjolaine will make no more trouble for me," she stated without elaborating.

"We also went to the home of Alistair's half-sister in Denerim. He had never met her, or even wrote to her, but…well, he had always longed for a family. I'm afraid it did not go well…"

"I was a fool to think that I would mean anything to her. But…it taught me something, that I could make a family for myself, that blood was not…what really made a family a family." _Yet we are bound by blood, too, my love._

"I would have thought a poor woman might see advantage in being half-sibling to a potential king. But maybe she feared Loghain's men. I suppose we should be thankful she made no attempt to turn us in. In any event, it was not the joyous family reunion of which Alistair dreamed.

But of course, our primary reason for coming to Denerim was to visit Brother Genitivi. He was not at home, but his assistant told me he had gone to the Spoiled Princess—the Inn on Lake Calenhad—to search for clues some time ago. Something sounded…wrong about this assistant however and when I questioned him more carefully, the fool attacked us. Afterward, I found the body of another man, presumably Genitivi's real assistant, along with some of his notes and an old map showing a village in the mountains west of Lake Calenhad that none of us had never heard of. Haven.

So there we were traipsing all the way across the country—practically all the way back to Orzammar again—to seek out an obscure village. As soon as we arrived it was obvious that Haven was…different. A certain amount of fear and suspicion of strangers might be expected in an isolated community, but this went far beyond that. The Dalish seemed almost welcoming by comparison. The villagers made it clear that they received very few visitors and wanted none. If we needed supplies, they could be bought at the store, but we were to leave immediately thereafter.

Well, of course, I wasn't going to make this entire journey for nothing. Although I feared for Brother Genitivi's fate, the only course of action was to try and retrace his footsteps. As a religious man in search of a holy artifact, I had no doubt that he would have gone immediately to the village Chantry. As did we.

A service was in session when we entered. Though I had not intended to interrupt, the Revered Father—yes, they were led in the chant by men—insisted on ending the service immediately. And when I asked after Brother Genitivi, he and his followers attacked. We were forced to foul the chantry with their blood.

Afterward, we found Brother Genitivi tied up and hurt in a library hidden behind a secret door in the Chantry. He was able to explain some of what had happened. He speculated that some of the unusual practices of the fanatical "Disciples of Andraste" as they called themselves, such as having Revered Fathers, might stem from having been founded before the Chantry was established. But there was more: they spoke of Andraste as if she were alive. The Knights that Isolde had sent in search of him had been murdered and tortured.

Why? It's not that hard to understand, I think. Haven had been isolated from the outside world for a long time. And when they sent out scouts, they must have soon learned that their eccentric beliefs would not be tolerated by the Chantry. So they sought to keep their existence concealed.

Yes, Leli, no doubt the Chantry would merely have sent missionaries and attempted to convert them peacefully, at first. But if they had resisted—and you know that they would have—do you truly doubt that the Templars would have crushed them? What do you suppose happened to those who survived our visit?

Brother Genitivi believed that the Ashes were kept in a temple on the mountain that overlooked Haven, and we had the key to open it from the Revered Father we had killed. He guided us up the mountainside to the huge, ancient Cathedral. It was a hard climb up the mountain and bitterly cold. Though it was well into spring by then, there was still snow and ice up there.

It was an astonishing place. I had never imagined encountering a Chantry as vast and imposing as the Grand Cathedral in such a small, isolated community. Even Morrigan was impressed. We left Brother Genitivi, who was exhausted from the climb, at the entrance and began exploring.

It was filled with the Disciples of Andraste. We slew them, mage and warrior, man and woman as we made our way through the temple in search of the Ashes. No doubt we left many children orphaned as we cut down the adults of Haven. We passed through the huge temple complex, and then beyond into a series of caves that had been carved into the mountainside, still without having found the ashes. Finally, we met the madman, Kolgrim, who was their Grand Cleric. We attempted a parley, but he grew enraged when I denied that "the risen Andraste" could be real. He died like his followers.

Yes, I do pity them. They attacked us, true, but they were trying to protect their beliefs. They were madness, but they knew nothing else. We learned that it had been Kolgrim's grandfather who had brought the change in their faith, so those living in Haven by then would have grown up believing that a dragon on the mountaintop was, in fact, the Bride of the Maker risen again. At its core, the "Disciples of Andraste", had been a Dragon Cult, an ironic perversion of Andraste's message. Kolgrim had barred the way to the mountain top where Andraste's shrine was located, and where the dragon had its lair. But the dragon slept, and so we passed by freely.

No, I don't regret leaving the dragon unharmed. I was not about to risk the deaths of the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden by fighting such a foe.

Yes, we did defeat a dragon in the ruins in the Brecilian forest. But that was later, and a _much_ smaller dragon. I was not keen to test the power of the Maker's plan to keep me safe.

Before entering the Shrine, we met a ghostly figure who called himself only the Guardian. I do not know who or what he was, but it seemed he had controlled the approach of pilgrim's to the Shrine since it was founded centuries before. He asked each of us a question about our past decisions…mostly dealing with whether we regretted difficult choices we had made. I will respect the privacy of my companions and not repeat what was said. It seemed it was his way of testing us.

No, my dear, you're right he did _not_ question Morrigan, or rather she declined to be tested. I am not sure why he let her pass without examination, unlike the rest of us. Or maybe he could read the answers in her mind—it seemed that he knew everything about us—and chose not to share her testing with the rest of us.

There were more tests within, but they were not so difficult. We had to answer riddles based on Andraste's life, faced shades of ourselves in battle, and one final puzzle that relied on teamwork for success. It seems that those who set it up did not want to allow pilgrims to go alone to the ashes.

And finally, there was the urn before us. Although I am not a particularly pious man, I must admit that I fell to my knees. There was great power there, and I could not help but feel the presence of the Maker, though Oghren speculated that the huge quantities of lyrium in the mountain enabled the Guardian, and perhaps the Ashes themselves. I took the pinch that the Guardian allowed and we made our way back toward Redcliffe.

So, yes, the Ashes were there, then. Later, Brother Genitivi organized an expedition to Haven, I heard, but they feared to face the dragon. A few years later, there was another expedition, and just as you said, the Urn were gone.

Leli, I don't think the Ashes were ever meant to be easily found. They were hidden away on a remote mountaintop for a reason. Had they been made accessible, how long would it have been before they were exhausted?

I think the Guardian took them somewhere else. Maybe somewhere away from the dragon, but maybe just somewhere hidden. You know, if there is one part of that whole year that makes me think you could be right about our success being somehow part of a greater plan, it was the Urn. Perhaps it was not an accident that its location was rediscovered at a time when its power was required. I like to think the Guardian has taken it somewhere safe, and that it will be found again, in a time of great need. I don't think the ability to cheat death was ever intended to be routinely available.

Yes, I'm sure Brother Genititivi was deeply disappointed to spend his lifetime searching for it, and never see it himself but it can't be helped." I did not have the heart to tell Leliana that he had killed himself when the Urn had vanished.


	25. Palais de Montfleurie:  A Restless Night

PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: A RESTLESS NIGHT

I was back in the endless dark tunnels of the Deep Roads. I was alone and could sense the Darkspawn all around me. Following the red glow of a river of molten rock into a large cavern, I saw my daughter. But Genlocks were storming into the cave from another passage. She went pale with fear and tried to hide behind a boulder. Her eyes were wide in terror, and though she had Morrigan's dark coloring, they reminded me of Fergus' daugher, Oriana. _Save me_, they seemed to implore.

I was a Grey Warden and my purpose was to fight the Darkspawn. I drew my daggers and tried to cut off the Genlocks before they could reach the girl. Whirling, feinting, slashing and thrusting, I danced into the mob, splattering black blood all around me. But there were too many. As many as I could cut down, more poured into the cave behind them. The girl shrank against the cavern wall, but they would surely reach her soon. I felt a desperate need to do—_something_—to keep them away from her. But as hard as I fought, heedless of my own safety, bleeding from several wounds, I was only one man.

Then, Alistair appeared from nowhere, and recognizing our peril, he let out a great cry that startled the Darkspawn. Seeing they were undecided whether to focus on me, this new threat, or pursue the girl, I went back on the offensive. My love and I fought our way toward each other, slicing through the Genlocks that lay between us until they were gone.

When it was finished, I panted with exhaustion while he went to my daughter, calming her and drying her tears. She smiled and relaxed, realizing that she was safe, among friends. Alistair was right—it was a beautiful Cousland smile, like my own, like my father's. I reached out to embrace Alistair and he pulled me close.

But then his skin took on a grayish tone and he grew shorter and broader even as I held him. I found myself embracing Ruck. I recoiled and watched in horror as he seemed to grow larger and larger. Pendulous breasts and huge tentacles appeared and I was facing the Brood Mother again. The girl was off and running, barely avoiding the grasp of its tentacles.

I woke up, panting, freed myself from the bedclothes and staggered from the bed. Alistair stirred. "Mmm…Aedan? Are you alright?"

Still breathing hard, I replied, "Yes, just…a dream. I think I'll get up and walk around a bit."

"You don't want to come back to bed?" He held out his arms.

"Not just yet. Go back to sleep, my love." I lit a candle, put on a nightrobe and went into the hallway. The image of him changing into Ruck had disturbed me, made me feel the ever-growing corruption in our blood more keenly. I could not get away from my own taint, but I could at least distance myself from his for a while.

I had never been able to emulate the equanimity with which Alistair accepted the death sentence that had been laid upon us both at the Joining. Had it just seemed too far away a prospect for him to worry about? He may have thought he would die fighting the Blight with Duncan. Maybe anything was worth escaping from the Templars? But even now, he never seemed bothered by the darkness within him, as I was.

I walked down the hallway, thinking to go to Sybille's sitting room on the other side of the entrance hall. I made no sound as I walked, as much through habit as from a desire not to awaken the servants who slept in this wing of the Palace.

It seemed I was not the only one awake at this hour. I heard voices from beyond the handsome carved oak doors at the end of the hall. It sounded like Sybille and Leliana were in the entry hall. _Why would they be up now? Could they have had a visitor? This late?_

I hesitated before the doors, unsure whether I should intrude on their conversation.

"You are sure it was not an accident?" asked Sybille.

"She could not have made such a mistake. But I don't know why. I saw her just last night. I did not speak with her long, but if something had been so wrong, surely she would have said—something—"

"You don't think it had anything to do with…could she have been exposed?"

"There was no sign of that, but…we must be cautious. I think we should hold off on the Mureille deal until we're sure…I will talk to Thierry, see if anyone in either household knows more."

I decided to leave them to their deliberations, as I knew nothing of their concerns. I moved away from the doors and sat down in a chair at the far end of the hallway. Still unsettled from the dream, I struggled to relax and collect myself. More than I ever, I felt that I needed to see Morrigan, see the girl for myself. She seemed so..vulnerable, a beautiful sweet child. If she were some sort of monster, there was nothing in the dreams that revealed it…unless she controls the nature of the dreams themselves? But no. They were unpleasant, but they seemed nightmares of the sort I might have without outside interference. I had been recounting the stories of Ruck and the Brood Mother, after all.

After a period of contemplation in the half-light of the silent house, I felt I was relaxed enough to return to bed. I was quiet, taking pains not to awaken Alistair but it proved pointless. He was lying awake, a candle lit by the bedside when I entered our room.

"You should have gone back to sleep, my dear."

"I was concerned about you. Usually you want to be held after one of those dreams."

Banishing the image of Ruck from my mind, I climbed into bed beside him, clasped my arms around his broad back. "I know. It was just…" with a swallow, I talked about the vision.

He said nothing for a little while. "Aedan, don't you think…wouldn't it be better to just go to to Weisshaupt? If Morrigan doesn't want to see us, surely she won't help you understand…and there are mages and old records at Weisshaupt. If they knew what we were dealing with, maybe-"

"I can't believe that Morrigan knows about the dreams. If she did, surely, she would try to stop them or go somewhere away from the Wardens if they can't be stopped. She wants to keep her daughter secret. And I just can't—go to Weisshaupt without knowing. I fear…"

"We don't _know_ that they will want to kill her. Maybe you could persuade them to let her be, at least for now…"

"But that's just the point. I don't _know_ anything that I could use to sway them. And if I can't, it might not just be the girl and perhaps one warden who would fall. Morrigan is powerful and she would fight to preserve her."

"You think _Morrigan_ would give her life to protect the child?"

"Morrigan is not as selfish and unfeeling as she likes to think and she _is_ a mother, now. Maybe she would flee to protect herself in the end, if the odds were overwhelming, but remember she fought the last wave of zombies practically alone at Redcliffe. She has great pride and courage. I think if…if the Wardens tried to take her, there could be a lot of bloodshed. And I don't want to be responsible for that."

He sighed. "I see your mind is made up. You know that it's hard for me to trust Morrigan but…I must trust you. But if Morrigan refuses to see us…"

"Then I'll have to find some way to find her. Either through the Empress or some other way."


	26. Memories: The Dark Forest

MEMORIES: THE DARK FOREST

The next day was the beginning of the Midsummer Festival and Sybille's household had planned a picnic by the merchant fairgrounds for our mid-day meal. The picnic was more elaborate than I had visualized, but having seen the way that the nobility behaved in Orlais, I should have expected nothing less. Leliana had insisted that Alistair and I dress in our fine silk clothes again. Sybille's guards found a choice spot in the shade of an enormous oak and pushed aside the crowds to make a place for us. A large cloth sheet was spread out upon the ground, and polished silver plates and goblets were laid upon it. Freshly baked bread, and a sort of cold tomato soup—a specialty from Rivain I was told—were served as we waited for the roast suckling pig. Sybille's cook must have been out here preparing since before dawn.

Despite the festive occasion, the women looked tired and troubled. Recalling their discussion of the previous evening, I asked Leliana if something was wrong.

"An old friend of Sybille's passed away unexpectedly last night. We will be going away for two days tomorrow to attend the funeral at her son's estate," she replied.

"But please make yourselves at home at the Palais while we are away," put in Sybille. You should not have any trouble with the servants."

As he spread a soft, creamy cheese on the bread, Rogier commented "Aunt Leli says she got her fighting boots and gloves from the Dalish Elves."

"And so she did," I said with a smile.

"But I thought the Dalish hated us."

"Well, they certainly resent humans—and if you've had some history, you'll know why." He nodded. "But the Blight is a threat to all peoples, so the Grey Wardens are welcome among even the Dalish, who otherwise shun outsiders."

"And they actually fought alongside you in Ferelden?"

I nodded. "But like many other things that year, it did not come easily. We went there after bringing the pinches of ash to Redcliffe to heal the Arl. I must admit that even after everything I had seen at the Shrine, I was still not sure it would work, but Eamon awakened almost immediately. Much had transpired in the months he had lain in bed and needed to be explained to him.

When the situation was made clear, he asserted that we must call a Landsmeet to bring all the nobles of Ferelden together to choose a new king and force Loghain to step down. We could not allow the civil war to continue, but Eamon was convinced that we needed someone with a strong claim on the throne—and that meant Alistair."

"Alistair?" asked the boy in surprise.

"I was the old king's half-brother, though born outside of wedlock to a serving girl, and kept secret. But Arl Eamon thought he could get the nobles to rally in my name. I thought—hoped—that he would make a play for the throne himself. He certainly understood far more about ruling a kingdom than _I_ did, but…"

"Why didn't you want to be king?" asked Rogier. "_I_ think it would be great to be a king."

Alistair shook his head. "When you're older, you'll see that being a King—or your Empress—is not easy. There is a lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure, making decisions that affect millions of people."

"But did you not have great responsibility when you fought the Blight?" inquired Sybille.

"Well, yes, but I stuck to fighting and left the decision-making to Aedan. I'm good at fighting."

"I still think you could have made a fine king, but…well, to get back to the story: we agreed to Eamon's plan, and while he organized the Landsmeet, we had other business to attend to. I had managed to secure the aid of the Circle of Mage and the Dwarves, but I still had one ancient treaty to call upon: that of the Dalish Elves.

We journeyed into the Brecilian Woods in the east of Ferelden to seek them out. It was not long before we found their camp. They were suspicious and distrustful at first, as is their wont, but they brought me to their Keeper, Zathrian. He was aware of the old treaty, but—surprise, surprise—he said they could not fulfill their obligations. Once again, I had to solve all _their_ problems before they would help me with mine.

Well, yes, I suppose it does sound bitter, but after having had to crown a king for the dwarves, clear a tower of abominations for the Templars, and find a legend to heal an Arl, I was getting tired of running errands while the Blight advanced over Ferelden. The problem the elves faced was that they had been attacked by werewolves, and a number of their hunters had been bitten and were succumbing to the werewolf's disease. If they could not somehow be cured, they would either die or be transformed into beasts themselves. Zathrian believed that if I could bring him the heart of Witherfang, the great white wolf, that perhaps he could find a cure for the curse.

Easier said than done, of course, and from the start, there were some things that bothered me about Zathrian's story. For one, though he insisted the werewolves were mindless beasts, I spoke to the hunters who had fought them and they said they were sure an ambush had been carefully laid. They sensed intelligence and purpose, not mere animal cunning, behind their actions."

"For all your complaining about doing tasks for everyone, I thought it was really sweet of you to bring those two young Dalish together…what were their names?"

I chuckled. "Well, perhaps it was because I was in the throes of young love myself at the time…"

"Remember that book he gave you—the Tale of Iloren? It's a beautiful story. I set it to song a few years ago. I'll sing it for you tonight if you like."

"Why not now?—ah, I see you did not bring your lute. Still, I would like to hear it." I returned to my story. "So off we went into the forest seeking a great wolf. It was not long before we learned that Zathrian was wrong—the wolves were not mindless. One of them spoke to us…she had been an elf of the clan who had been—transformed. She begged for death, which…we provided. But we learned from her that the wolves had 'overcome the curse', as she put it.

The forest was a strange place. The story teller had said that perhaps because there had been so many dead there during an ancient battle, the veil that separates our world from the Fade had torn and the forest was infested with spirits. We did face other wolves that seemed more like normal animals, along with vicious bears, a few darkspawn-Ferelden was crawling with them everywhere by that itme it seemed-and even a number of trees that beat at us with their branches and tried to entangle us in their roots. No, I'm _quite_ sure we were not imagining it.

But it was not long before I faced a wolf who called himself Swiftrunner. He clearly hated the Dalish but would tell me little, other than to leave. When I threatened him, telling him I needed to get to Witherfang, he fled, and said the forest would protect them from us. And it seemed for a time that it would…when we went into the densest, darkest part of the forest, we kept getting lost in a strange mist and could not find our way.

We went back to the Dalish camp for advice. Zathrian refused to believe me when I said that the werewolves had spoken to me, but he did have a helpful piece of advice: there was a tree he called the Grand Oak that might be able to help. It was a tree-spirit, similar in kind to the ones that had attacked us but a stronger spirit and one that was not filled with murderous rage. We found the tree and in return for getting its acorn back from a mad hermit, it agreed to give us a branch that would allow us to pass to the ruins in the heart of the forest where the werewolves had their lair. It took bit of wrangling with the lunatic,-I was tempted to slay him in frustration, before Wynne warned me that he was a powerful mage-but I eventually managed to swap something we had found in the forest for the acorn.

With the oak's branch in hand, we made our way to the ancient elven ruins in the heart of the forest. The ruins were haunted by ghosts, infested with giant spiders and even—as you mentioned the other day—with a dragon, although a small one. Still, we fought our way down and found our way to the werewolf's lair.

Once there, Swiftrunner asked us if we would parley, saying that 'The Lady' who led the werewolves wished to speak to me. I was hesitant, fearing an ambush, but I already mistrusted Zathrian, so I decided to see what she had to say.

The Lady proved to be a beautiful spirit, not a wolf at all. She told us that she was the Spirit of the Forest and that the werewolves had once been mindless, vicious animals, but that she had helped them find their humanity. For they had once been human, or rather their ancestors had. Hundreds of years before, a human tribe and the Dalish clan still led by Zathrian had lived in this forest and their had been…tension between them. Zathrian's daughter had been raped by the humans, his son tortured and killed. In revenge, he had used the spirit of the forest itself to forge a terrible curse—the Great Wolf Witherfang had killed or infected the human tribe and they had become savage beasts. The werewolves today were their descendants or the descendants of other people unfortunate enough to have been attacked by the werewolves and cursed.

The Lady—who, as you may have guessed was also Witherfang—sought to end the curse. The attack on the Dalish had been an attempt to force Zathrian to deal with them.

I was furious. Zathrian had put us to a task, through grave danger, when he could have ended the curse himself. Storming back toward the Dalish camp, we encountered Zathrian before we even left the ruins. He did not want to talk, asking only if I had Witherfang's heart, but I told him he would speak to the Lady, even if I had to drag him there.

Even faced with his own creations speaking to him, Zathrian refused to aid them. He wanted to end the curse only for his people; he still held the werewolves responsible for crimes committed by their ancestors long ago. We were actually forced to fight him—and his magic was formidable indeed—before he gave up and undertook the ritual that would end the curse, and end both his life, and that of the Lady. We returned to the Dalish camp where the infected elven hunters were recovering, and they promised to aid us against the blight. We had gathered the armies we could and it was time to return to Redcliffe and see if Eamon was ready for the Landsmeet.

If there's one thing I learned from the year we spent fighting the Blight, it was that those who are the most respected, most admired people in their society, and have the best of intentions can commit monstrous crimes. Loghain, the hero of the River Dane thought he was protecting Ferelden against another invasion and nearly destroyed it. Zathrian, the Keeper of his clan, sought to protect them from a threatening human tribe and created a great evil that nearly swallowed his own clan in the end. Branka, a dwarven paragon hoped to save her race from the Darkspawn with the Anvil wiped out her own clan. Even Uldred was a respected senior enchanter who longed to give the mages freedom from the chantry…and that put him on the path to abomination and the Circle's ruin. Evil can come from the most unexpected sources: great people with good aims who are misled or too sure of themselves." _I had learned that lesson, surely. I was not falling, would never fall, into the trap that they had…would I?_


	27. Val Royeaux: A Disappointing Response

VAL ROYEAUX: A DISAPPOINTING RESPONSE

After the picnic, the five of us ambled through the crowd for some time. Later in the day there was to be a theatrical performance—Leliana knew some of the actors- but we had time to enjoy the street performers and browse the wares of the merchants who had come from all over Thedas for the Festival Fair.

While Alistair and Rogier watched a pair of men juggling daggers between them at alarming speeds, the women studied the model shoes of a cobbler, who explained that he could make the shoes to fit with dyes of almost any color they could wish. Seeing an Antivan stall with a variety of fine leather goods and small arms a short distance away, I excused myself and made my way over there.

Recalling that rapier and main-gauche was a popular weapon combination in Antiva, I browsed the weapons on his rack, but saw nothing with which I could replace my daggers.

"May I help you find something? You look like a man who knows what he wants."

"Indeed. I was hoping to find a rapier and a main-gauche but—and I am sorry if I offend—do not see anything that quite meets the standards I seek."

He looked disappointed. "This red steel rapier is finely crafted," he said.

It was not a bad piece, but I shook my head. "They would be used in place of these, you see." With a flick of my wrists, my dragonbone daggers were in my hands.

His eyes grew wide as he studied the runes that Sandal had engraved in them. "I see. Those would be…difficult to match. I know a smith who might be up to such a task, but dragonbone has no equal, and it is not an easy to material to find."

I sighed. "I quite understand. I haven't slain a dragon myself in a few years…" He chuckled, assuming that I was joking. ."If I happen to kill another, perhaps I'll seek you out again."

"Is there nothing else I can offer? I have…other things available that I do not display."

I was always on the lookout for new poisons and Antivans commonly dealt in such. "Say…do you happen to have anything interesting for someone looking for a little extra edge in a combat? Assume that I have access to all the more conventional types," I leaned forward and spoke under my breath, "mage bane, soldier's bane, Crow poison, demonic poison…"

The short man glanced about and replied, "I just might have something for you. No doubt a man of your…wide experience has noted that deathroot-based poisons have lost some of their efficacy in recent years, as well-prepared practitioners have cultivated a resistance to them?" I had not, in fact, noticed this, but was prepared to believe that it might be true, given the ubiquity of the herb. "A friend of mine recently found a substitute with similar properties, based on the _belle-du-jour?"_

I blinked. "_Those_ flowers?" If my botanical studies had been no help in finding Morrigan, at least they enabled me to recognize the blossom he was talking about.."Are they even poisonous?"

"Only the seeds, and they have to be concentrated and prepared just so. But _I_ have detailed instructions I can sell you for a very reasonable price" He quoted an extremely unreasonable price, but I bargained him down.

After completing my purchase, as I was turning away to rejoin my friends, a young woman tried to bump into me. Wary of pickpockets, however, I sidestepped her. Normally, they will simply move on to an easier mark, but this girl gave me a look of pure annoyance and came at me again, forcing something into my hands. _ Not trying to take something from me, but rather trying to give me something?_

It turned out to be a letter:

_Dear Aedan,_

_ It is touching that you are still concerned for my safety after all these years. However, there is only one source of danger that concerns me, and since you wrote of an 'unexpected' source, I must conclude that you have no news of her. I have complete confidence that I can handle any danger from other sources. As you should have cause to know, I am quite capable of protecting myself and I prefer to do so, in my own way._

_Furthermore, I do not think it wise for us to meet again. Our lives and purposes coincided for one year, during which the Blight was defeated, I have other cares and concerns now, of which you have no part, and I expect the same is true of you. I wish you well on your travels, but do not want or need your assistance. _

_Morrigan_

I shook my head in exasperation and crumpled the note in my hand.

"Bad news?" inquired Yves, as he approached. Once again, he had managed to come upon me at a time when I was too preoccupied to notice his taint. I was alarmed to see Enrique beside him. _Could he have betrayed me?_

"A minor disappointment, yes." I replied. "Good afternoon, Yves."

"_So_ sorry to hear…have you met our court liaison, by the way? This is Enrique de Alianca. May I present the most famous hero of our age, Commander Aedan Cousland."

"We met in passing once. Hello, Enrique." We shook hands in greeting.

"You and Alistair are still here, I see." Yves continued. "I realize it can be quite challenging to tear yourselves away from the delights of Val Royeaux, but do keep in mind that the passes into Anderfels are subject to snow quite early in the year."

"We plan to leave quite soon, but thank you for the advice."

"I suppose you are waiting until you have seen that mage…what is her name again…Morrigan?"

I could feel a bead of sweat appear on my forehead; if he saw it, I hoped he would attribute it to the hot sun. I spoke with a studied, casual tone. "We do hope to see her before we leave yes."

"From what _I've_ heard, you sounded more than hopeful. Avid, at the very least. And I wondered," he said, toying with his long hair, "why is he so interested in this mage? Why now?'

I forced myself to shrug. "Is it so surprising that I would seek out an old friend I have not seen in a few years? I contacted Leliana my first night in Val Royeaux." I could see that Alistair had turned around and was looking in our direction now, perhaps he had sensed the gathering of taint behind him.

"Oh, I don't know, I thought perhaps it might have something to do with the dreams…you _have_ had one or two by now, I assume?" My eyes flicked over to Enrique—had he told him that I had an interest in the dreams—but it seemed not. "Perhaps you would let me join you when you pay her a social visit?"

That caught me off guard—involuntarily, my fists clenched. I unclenched them and made the muscles of my forearms relax, but I think he noticed. "I have, I think, had a dream of the sort you refer to, but what would _Morrigan_ know about that? She's not one of us. And she's difficult; I don't think she would like unexpected visitors."

He held his hands open. "Just a hunch. The fade _is_ a mage's business, after all."

"But you must have mages at Coteaux du Roche."

"True…but they do not have your Morrigan's unique background. I thought she might have some…fresh perspective."

"Well, I suppose I can ask her about them when I see her."

"_Do_ that. I am _most_ interested in what she has to say. If you don't, I think I may pay her a visit myself. You seem to have excellent taste in companions," he glanced over at the others, "Well, I suppose I've taken up enough of your time. I am off to see the men practicing for the melee tournament tomorrow." He and Enrique disappeared into the crowd.

_How much does he suspect? Could Celene have told him about Morrigan's daughter? _I had to act soon…or I feared he would act first_. _I recalled my dream of the night before, the little girl…my daughter crying, "Save me". Somehow, I would have to find Morrigan, and quickly. I had to get Celene to tell me where she was, whatever it took.

When Leliana led us into the theater later in the afternoon, I was taken aback by its size and splendor. I had attended some plays in Ferelden, but they had always been in rather plain settings, never in a building dedicated for that purpose. Although I suspected that what appeared to be marble columns with gilt filigree supporting the balconies were merely painted wood, it was still impressive. It was nearly as large as a great cathedral, with space for several thousand spectators to watch the stage. It appeared that the noble classes sat in the balconies and the rest crowded together on the ground below them.

The play itself was also unlike anything I had ever seen. In Ferelden, the plays had been rather simple and used by the Chantry to teach moral lessons, often by dramatizing parts of Andraste's life. If there was a moral to this play—Leliana had called it a "farce"—I certainly couldn't see it. It seemed to be about a village lawyer who obtained some cloth on credit from a clothier and the adventures involved in avoiding paying for it. Unfortunately, much of the humor was lost on me, as it seemed to rest on the pronunciations of words in different Orlesian dialects leading to misunderstandings.

My understanding was not aided by the fact that I spent much of the time looking across to the balcony where Celene, her ladies-in-waiting, and the Imperial guard sat, along with a number of young men wielding huge fans to keep them cool in the heat of the day. I judged that there was little hope of getting close to the Empress, but Madame Larousse was seated nearer the entrance. Leliana had said there would be an intermission, in the hopes that people would not attend to calls of nature inside the theater, though it appeared from the scent that some men were sufficiently drunk that they did so anyway. Although it was another reminder of the sharp divide here between noble and peasant, I was happy to be up in the balcony.

When the first act was over, I walked around the theatre in the back corridor and waited near the entrance to the imperial balcony. I noticed one of the young men with fans coming out and decided to approach him. If I were only there briefly, the fan would hide my face and the blue of my tunic was near enough the color of the imperial livery to pass a quick look.

"Excuse me, may I borrow your fan for a moment." He gave me a suspicious look. "Here, I'll pay you for it, so you can purchase another if I do not return it." I held out a gold sovereign.

"What do you want it for? You going onto the balcony? That's not…"

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not going to do anything. I just need to speak to someone." I held out a second sovereign. This was far more money than he would see in a month and he could not, and did not, refuse it.

Making my way out onto the balcony, my face carefully hidden by the fan, I sidled up to Madame La Rousse and whispered. "Madame, I must speak with you." I tilted my fan so that she could see my face, but it remained concealed from the others.

"Commander Cousland," she hissed, "What are you doing here?"

I grabbed hold of her wrist, prepared to use force if necessary. "Come with me outside a moment and hear me."

"Very well," she sighed, and made obeisance to the Empress, signaling that she would be back momentarily. "What is this about? You got your answer. I'm sorry if you're not happy with the response, but there's nothing I can do about that."

I shook my head. "It's not acceptable. I _must_ see her. If you cannot tell me where she is yourself, then get the Empress to give me a private audience."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because—" I said, my voice low and lethal—"you would prefer to be my friend, rather than my enemy."

She tossed her head. "Do you dare threaten me?"

"Madame Larousse, I stood by at the foot of the Ambassador's bed while he and his lady lay sleeping. Do you truly wish to find out how daring I can be?"

She inhaled sharply, the breath hissing between her teeth. Sweat glistened on her brow. "I—will do what I can. But you must understand that Her Majesty does not respond to my beck and call."

"If you cannot get her to see me, then you _will_ help me to find out where Morrigan is, by some other means."

"We'll see." She glared at me, having recovered her composure. "Talk to the spice merchant from Tevinter at the north end of the market later today, and you shall have your answer."

"Thank you, Madame La Rousse." I bowed formally, returned the fan to its owner and returned to my seat before the second act began.


	28. Memories:  Crowning a Queen

MEMORIES: CROWNING A QUEEN

Later that evening, after Leliana had played her Song of Iloren for us, we sat in Sybille's garden. Although the heat of the day had subsided after sunset, it was still very warm in the house, so we dined beneath the magnolia tree in the garden.

"Well," said Sybille, sipping the sweet _vin mousseux _the servants had brought out with the peaches after dinner, "it seems we've almost come to the end of your story, Aedan. Perhaps you can complete it tonight, before Leliana and I go to Chateau Picart for the funeral?"

"I don't know if there will be time to complete it, but I can perhaps get as far as the Landsmeet this evening. Although we had gathered the armies, we still had much to do, as Wynne was fond of saying.

I have to confess that my first priority before getting back to Redcliffe was a rather personal one. I finally coaxed my shy, chantry-raised boy into my tent for the evening the night we left the Dalish camp. Though I knew he was still reticent, I felt that we might never have another chance. So after a long kiss—when I could tell he was aroused from the beating of his heart-as well as other signs," I glanced into my lover's lap, "I asked him if he would join me and he did."

"I was still nervous about the physical part of loving Aedan, but I trusted him and he would not want to hurt me or…shame me, so I knew that he must mean to make…love, and not just take. And with Eamon planning to make me King, I suppose I wanted to know what it was that I would be…missing."

Sybille looked puzzled, "Why do you both speak as if your relationship might have come to an end? I imagine that you were worried that you might not both survive the final battles, but…"

"It wasn't that, or not only that," I replied. "If Alistair were King, he would have to marry, try to conceive an heir to the throne. And—well, obviously, he could not do that with me."

"But many kings have women on the side—or men, if that is their taste," pointed out the Comtesse.

I chuckled, "Alistair would not be most kings."

He shook his head. "No, I would not have dishonored my marriage that way. I mean, I loved Aedan, but if I were _married_ to someone else, I wouldn't be…playing around."

"It was one of the few times we quarreled. I saw it much as you did, Sybille, and told him I didn't mean to give him up, but Alistair…well, I knew him well enough by then that I wasn't surprised. But it still hurt a little to know that he would be willing to end our relationship. And he seemed almost angry at me for suggesting otherwise. You didn't think that I wanted you _because_ you might be king, did you?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't that, my dear, you know that I wanted to stay with you. I didn't want to be King, at all. But if I was going to be King, my duties would have to come first."

"So I thought, that if he did, that at least we would always have those nights we shared in the tent. And I must say it was one time that I was glad I had not taken Alistair's suggestion and made Morrigan our camp cook."

"Why is that?" Alistair could not see the connection.

"I would not have wished to explain why I wanted lard in the middle of the night to her," as Alistair turned a scarlet so bright that it was obvious even by candlelight.

"Lard?" asked Leliana. "What for?"

I looked up toward the large white blossoms in the tree above us, "Some activities are easier and more pleasurable with a little grease." Understanding dawned in Leli's eyes, and we all laughed as my love's face changed from scarlet to crimson.

"I must say that you appeared to lose all your doubts about making love rather quickly, once you realized the Maker wasn't about to strike you down with lightning. You seemed quite _avid_ to explore all the possibilities. But after a few of these delightful nights, we were back at Redcliffe and ready to go to Denerim for the Landsmeet. Eamon was certain that we needed to make Alistair King and my heart was heavy at the thought of losing him. But there seemed no other way forward, so we returned to Denerim to try and sway the nobles of Ferelden to reject Loghain and join forces with us to fight the Darkspawn.

We had been in Denerim only a short time when Queen Anora's maid came to us with a most curious request. She claimed that the Queen was imprisoned on Howe's estate and begged us to rescue her. I was dubious, but Eamon convinced me that even if it were a trap, we had little choice because if Howe killed Anora and blamed us, the Landsmeet would turn against us. In any event, I had business to conclude with Howe myself.

With the maid's assistance, we managed to enter the estate unnoticed, disguised in the uniform of Howe's guards. But when we reached Anora's room we found her trapped behind a magical barrier. It seemed the only way to free her would be to find the mage who had constructed the barrier, and he had descended into the dungeon with Howe.

Although we had passed unnoticed through the house, entering the dungeon required a password—which needless to say, we did not know. And so, once more our path was spattered in blood as we fought our way through the guards in Howe's prisons and torture chambers until we faced the monster himself, as well as the mage who had imprisoned Anora.

Slaying Howe was…not as satisfying as I had imagined it would be. Of course, I knew it would not bring my family back, but somehow I thought I would feel more…closure than I did. Instead, he was just one more body, in the end.

Howe had a number of interesting prisoners. One was an Orlesian Grey Warden named Riordan took the initiative to free himself by reaching through the bars of his cell and strangling his guard when he was distracted by our arrival. Another was the son of a Bann who had been at Ostagar and was imprisoned for telling of Loghain's betrayal. We found a Templar who had been captured when Loghain had got his hands on Jowan, the blood mage that had poisoned Eamon. And finally, we found Vaughn, the son of the former Arl of Denerim. The Arl himself had fallen at Ostagar and Howe had succeeded in getting Loghain to name him Arl in his place, as Vaughn was thought dead as well. Ugh…I wish I had never let _that_ one out of the dungeon. Denerim would be a happier place if he were dead. But at the time, I thought we needed as many allies at the Landsmeet as possible, even if the man seemed an arrogant fool. He has since proven to be far worse than that, though that is another story.

After releasing all the prisoners, we returned upstairs to free Anora and attempted to smuggle her out of the manor. It seemed none of the guards on the upper floor had heard any of the commotion from below and we almost escaped.

However, we were prevented from leaving by the arrival of Ser Cauthrien with a substantial force, coming to arrest us for the murder of Arl Howe. The timing of her arrival—and the charge of murdering Howe—has always struck me as suspicious, though the palace _is_ very close to the Arl's estate and I suppose that if his spies had seen us going there, he could hardly think that I was paying Howe a social visit.

I could not help but suspect a trap, but I can't see how Anora could have laid such a trap without Howe's help. She _was_ imprisoned by magic, and Howe was clearly not prepared for our arrival. Nor did Ser Cauthrien appear to have any notion that Anora was there. I have a suspicion that she might have gone there to try and get Howe's support against her father, but he decided he didn't like the deal. In any event, I contemplated trying to fight our way out but decided against it, much to Oghren's dismay. I saw—and still see-Ser Cauthrien as an honorable woman, and was confident she would not execute us without trial. And if I could not bust us out of Fort Drakon myself, I had no doubt that Leliana and Zevran would. Only Alistair and I were imprisoned; the others—including Anora—went back to Arl Eamon's estate.

As it happened, we were able to free ourselves before the others mounted a rescue mission. It was almost disturbingly easy to escape. I pretended to be suffering from some dreadful ailment and when the guard came in to check on us, we beat him senseless with our fists. I snuck into the armory and stole some uniforms and we were able to pose as new recruits going out on our first patrol.

When we arrived back at Eamon's estate, Anora was waiting for me with a proposition. Knowing that we needed more support to topple her father, she offered to speak on our behalf to the Landsmeet…if I agreed to support her as Queen. Although I knew Eamon would be enraged by this suggestion, I could not help but agree with some of her arguments, in particular that putting a Grey Warden on the throne might be viewed as an inappropriate interference in Ferelden's politics. After all, the Wardens had only recently been allowed back into the country, and were still not fully trusted.

She offered an…unflattering description of Alistair as a King and suggested that he was too inexperienced and would serve Ferelden better as a Warden than as a King. Despite that—or maybe because she thought she could control him—she was willing to marry him, even willing to put up with him continuing his relationship with me on the side, much as she had tolerated Cailan's mistresses. While I think my love has a stubborn streak that would make him harder to manipulate—by her or Eamon-than she imagined, I could not help thinking that simply leaving her on the throne might be the best solution. And one which would let _us _stay together."

"Aedan, surely you're not saying that you considered our happiness more important than Ferelden's future! I always assumed you were _joking_ when you said it was a selfish decision, and that you knew I just wouldn't make a good King."

I paused and looked over to him. "I—would not put it that way. I thought it was better to have Anora as an ally than an enemy, and I did not think having Thierin blood was as important to most of the Landsmeet as it was to Eamon. Maybe you and Anora ruling together would have been better than Anora ruling alone, but the Wardens needed you too. _I_ needed you. And it's not like I was placing an idiot or a monster on the throne."

"You know I didn't want the throne, but if you really thought it was in the best interests of Ferelden, shouldn't—"

I didn't let him finish. "But it's only my opinion that you might have been better together and Eamon's opinion that you should have been King. You said you thought Anora would be better. I might be wrong." He still looked troubled but said no more, and I continued my story.

"Although I had a hunch that with Anora's help we would win the Landsmeet—surely few would support a man whose own daughter had turned against him—we decided to see if we could learn anything else that would be damaging to his case. The Queen suggested that there had been a disturbance in the Alienage that might bear investigation. I wondered if she knew more than she let on, but we went there to look around.

When we arrived in the Alienage, we found a large, angry crowd gathered outside a hospice. We were told that there was a plague spreading, and that healers from Tevinter were inside the Hospice, giving a magical cure for it. The trouble was that people did not seem to be coming back out. It sounded suspicious, to say the least. We were not allowed in the front door—supposedly because of the plague—so we paid off the elven guard at the back door to get in. What we discovered was that there was hardly anyone inside, certainly not the dozens of elves who had been brought in for treatment..

With a little more investigation—and quite a bit of fighting, for the Tevinter guards were not of a mind to cooperate—we eventually found out what was going on. The whole hospice was a front for an operation to smuggle elves that were to be sold as slaves in Tevinter. With the express permission of Loghain, in direct contravention of Ferelden law, I might add. It was one more crime to lay at Loghain's door, when the Landsmeet met.

The Landsmeet itself did not prove as difficult as I feared. Loghain seemed deranged, focused on a threat from Orlais, even as the Darkspawn ran amok over Ferelden. He accused me of being a tool of the Empress and of having Anora kidnapped, a charge that backfired when Anora herself appeared and spoke on my behalf. After that, he received very little support from the Landsmeet. Still, he would not give up, and rather than drowning the chamber in blood as his supporters and mine fought it out, I chose to fight a duel. Had I planned on making Alistair king, I would have asked him to fight the duel, but as it was, I thought Loghain would be less familiar with opponents of my fighting style than his. Though thirty years my senior, he was still a formidable warrior, but with the help of a helpful little mixture I bought from Cesar in the market, he was overcome and yielded in the end.

It was then that Riordan suggested that Loghain be made into a Warden, and my love became more furious than I have ever seen him. For my part, I was irritated by Riordan making this suggestion with no prior warning…I rather think he and Anora must have talked about it beforehand. I wasn't even sure what he was doing at the Landsmeet. In any event, I had less faith than he that making him a Warden would wed him to our cause. Even Cauthrien and Anora called him "mad". I was not about to put trust in a madman or someone who thought me an Orlesian agent. Had he freely offered to become a warden before the duel, stepped down from the Regency to spare the kingdom further division before it came to that, I might have thought he had seen the error of his ways and done as Riordan advised. But even so, I was taken aback by Alistair's vehemence. My dear, would you really have abandoned the Wardens, abandoned _me_, if I had made him one of us?"

"I—I was really angry. I don't know if I—no, I don't think I could have…" He frowned. "It would have been very hard to call him brother, after all he had done…"

"Well, in any event, I ignored Riordan, though it meant breaking a promise to Anora, for I _had_ told her that if there were a way for Loghain to live, I would take it. But I had in mind imprisonment or perhaps exile, not the rite of conscription. I slew him before all the nobles gathered there and his blood spattered his daughter's dress.

She was overcome with grief, or perhaps overcome with her own role in her father's death—but composed herself remarkably well when I advised the Landsmeet to make her Queen. I suppose she might well have feared that having broken one promise, I would break another and tout Alistair for the throne. But I chose otherwise, and so, I believe I lost Arl Eamon's friendship, as well as hers. But Ferelden was united, the armies were gathered, and there was nothing left but to fight the final battle against the Archdemon. But as I said, that's too much story telling for a single night…how is your epic going by the way, Leli?"

She smiled. "It is coming, though I have been a bit—distracted by other concerns. I have been doing some research on the Blights, and noticed something remarkable."

"Oh?"

"In the last four blights, there has always been one Warden whose heroism has been celebrated above all others. I had thought to mention each of their names, and then finally yours, in a prologue…with apologies to Alistair. But the remarkable thing is that the other four all seem to have died in the final battle. You are the only one that managed to survive the Archdemon to be feted in life."

Alistair looked like he might fall out of his chair then, but fortunately Leli's eyes were focused on me, and she did not notice.

"Really? I had no idea. Maybe you had it right all along and the Maker had a special plan for me." I finished my glass of wine and made my way to bed soon after. Madame LaRousse had secured an audience for me early the next morning, and I wished to be well-rested for it.


	29. Le Palais Royeaux: Making Choices

LE PALAIS ROYEAUX: MAKING CHOICES

It was barely past the first light of dawn when I gave Alistair a goodbye kiss before leaving for my audience with the Empress. "Can you please get our things packed for a short journey, my love? I want to get moving as soon as possible."

"What if you can't persuade her to tell you where Morrigan is?"

"I will persuade her. I must. Yves is getting too close."

"Alright," he replied. "I'll be ready to go when you get back."

I made my way over to the Palace and was assigned an escort at the gate. Celene awaited in the _Jardin des Cascades_, a formal garden behind the palace. She sat at the center of the garden, flanked by imposing body guards, between the two roaring, artfully constructed waterfalls that gave the garden its name. Her ornamental chair lay in the shade of the cliff that formed the eastern fall. Though it was still early morning, it was already quite warm in the sun. I looked forward to returning to the cool sea breezes of Amaranthine when this was all done.

"Commander," she said, as I arrived and knelt.

"Thank you for granting me this audience, Your Majesty."

"Let us skip the formalities. I have little time and you may speak openly here. These two are sworn to silence and the falls will drown out the sound of our voices to any others. Why should we tell you where Morrigan is? She has indicated that she does not want to see you and we have promised to keep her location secret."

"I have information she needs, whether she realizes it or not, Your Majesty."

She rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers on the armrest. "Yes, you said that before, but did not deign to tell us what it was. Have you changed your mind? Are you willing to tell us what Morrigan must know, and let us judge whether you need see her?"

I shook my head. "I cannot without betraying certain secrets."

"Yet you ask _us _to break our word, to Morrigan." Her grey eyes searched my face. "We would settle for being told exactly what makes Morrigan's little girl so special." She raised her hand before I could speak. "We _know_ you're her father, but do not expect us to believe that this is all about some sudden fatherly feelings. Nor will we be convinced that it is merely because the girl has talent as a mage—hiding a mage from the Templars does not require anything like the efforts to which Morrigan has gone."

"No, I cannot. Is there no service that I could do for you, as I did before? I must ask that I have leave to perform it after returning from Morrigan, but surely I have skills that—"

She cut me off, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Great as your skills are, we do not see them as so unique that we have tasks we can trust to no other. No. You ask a piece of information that you can get from no other source; we must have payment in kind. Tell us about this information you have for Morrigan, tell us about her daughter, or—" She raised her head, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at the cypress trees that lined the western waterfall. "Tell us where you go when you leave the common room at _Le Cheval Blanc_"

"What?" I had not been anticipated that question. I supposed I should not have been surprised that the Empress had spies who had noticed the times I left the table to talk to Enrique, but still. "I promised—"

She tapped her toe against the paving stones. "Yes, yes, and we promised Morrigan to keep her whereabouts secret. Confidence for confidence."

I hesitated, unsure of why the Empress would require this information. But my mind was filled with the image in my dream, of the little girl surrounded by Darkspawn. _Save me!_ She had cried. _Several reported a very strong desire to protect her_, Enrique had said. Was I being influenced, somehow? I brushed the thought away. No, I merely wanted to prevent Yves from discovering her, prevent a potential bloodbath. Time was short and there seemed to be no other way. Leli would be angry with me for revealing her secret room, but I could surely do something to aid Sybille's faction in the Game to make amends.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well. I go through a door hidden behind a large cask in the inn's wine cellar."

"Into the ancient city, I suppose. Which direction?"

"East, down a passage to a room."

"There is an entrance to the main sewer near there," she said, not waiting for confirmation from me. "Thank you, Commander. That will do. Give him the scroll, Franquet."

The huge bodyguard to her right produced a piece of vellum with a map. "You will need to follow the road almost a day's ride north to the village of Bellerive," indicating its location with a long blue fingernail. You can hire a boat, there. Morrigan's home lies in the royal forest, but it is more swamp than forest in that area." _A swamp witch to the end._ "There is an island in the swamp here, with a large conical hill on it—the locals call it a _cornet de marecage_—but this one is not as large as it seems. It's southern flank is a magical illusion—do not expect us to explain how it works-but you can walk right through it to a meadow where Morrigan has a home. Our business is concluded here. Goodbye, Commander."

I knelt before her once more and was escorted to the palace gates.

Alistair was waiting for me, ready to go, as he promised. "Were you successful?" I nodded.

I smiled. "You know when I set my mind to something, I usually get what I want.. Where's Leliana?" I wanted to tell her that the meeting place was no longer safe. I hoped she would not be _too_ annoyed with me…

"She and Sybille have already left for the country. Leli said they would be back in two days. Was it something important? I'm sure we could send a messenger to the estate."

I knew I should let her know, but was not sure which members of the household could be trusted with a sensitive message. After a moments thought, I decided that it could wait. "No, nothing important. Let's get going."


	30. Bellerive: A Muggy Night

BELLERIVE: A MUGGY NIGHT

We arrived in the village of Bellerive, at the edge of the Royal Forest at dusk. Not wishing to traverse the swamps in the dark, we found a rather seedy inn to stay the night. I supposed it was a sign that I had grown soft in the years since the blight, but the accommodations were not up to my usual standard. However, I judged it a better choice than camping outdoors that night, for I could hear thunder rumbling in the distance.

After being served a meal of boiled turnips and coarse bread—fortunately we had brought some dried meats and cheese from Sybille's-we bedded down in a room with woodwork so rotten and moldy, I hoped that the roof would not collapse on us in the night. Alistair suddenly sat up. "What if it's Flemeth we find tomorrow, instead of Morrigan?"

I had never told Morrigan that we had not killed Flemeth. At the time, I feared to test our skills against such an ancient power, for if Flemeth had slain us, Ferelden was doomed. And I had been reluctant to murder someone who had done us no harm and given us great help, particularly as even Morrigan indicated that she would not stay dead. I was not eager to make an enemy of something immortal, but afterward, I worried that I had done the wrong thing. Strangely, she had simply taken her mother's grimoire without asking whether Flemeth was dead. It made me think that either the grimoire held no secrets that would aid her, or that she had misread Flemeth's intentions completely. I hoped the latter true, but feared the former more likely.

"I don't think it's Flemeth. In her letter, she wrote 'there is only one source of danger that concerns me, and since you wrote of an unexpected source, I must conclude that you have no news of her'. I think Flemeth has not yet found Morrigan, and that is why she is so well-hidden and secretive. But…if it is Flemeth, then I suppose we must deal with Flemeth."

He nodded and pulled me closer to him. "Aedan, I've been thinking. I know that you don't believe the child must be slain, but if…if she turns out to be something terrible, let me do it. There's no need—"

"No, my love. I can't let you. It was my choice."

"But it should have been _me_. I am older, I've been a warden longer." _By six months_. "Besides, you're a better leader than me. The Wardens need you more"

_Let the Wardens go to the Black City_, I thought to myself, but that was not a line of argument that would sway him. I was not surprised by this offer, however, and I had thought it through carefully. "Alistair, if it comes to that, I will need you to handle Morrigan. I cannot resist and disrupt her magic as you can."

He looked downcast, realizing the truth of what I said, but tried again. "But the child is probably a mage, too."

"In the dreams, she has not cast spells to defend herself. I am sure she has power, but she likely lacks the experience and skill to guide it, so I think Morrigan remains the greater danger. And we don't know that the old god's soul can move again…Morrigan said it would merge with the child, not simply replace it, like it would a Darkspawn. Anyway, I still have faith that we won't have to fight. I simply hope to get some answers, and persuade Morrigan to go somewhere far away, where she won't disturb the wardens." I could see from Alistair's frown that he was not convinced, but he said no more. I hoped that this was the end of it. _I am faster than him, faster than anyone I have ever fought. I will move before him, just as I did on the roof of Fort Drakon. Unless Morrigan turns me into a block of ice or stone, traps me in a cage of pain or puts me to sleep…_

We made love with an almost violent passion that night. I curled up beside him, enveloped by the warmth of his body. Although it made a muggy night seem even more sultry, I could not deny myself the comfort of having him close at hand. I tried not to think about the fact that it could be the last time we lay together.


	31. The Royal Forest:  The Swamp Witch

THE ROYAL FOREST: THE SWAMP WITCH

The following morning, we hired a small flat bottomed boat that we were assured could navigate the shallows and take us where we needed to go. Despite the rain of the previous night, it was another hot day, made stifling by the lack of breeze and the damp air. We paddled all morning through narrow waterways that meandered between islands of reeds and lilies, drowned stands of cypress and willow trees, and the occasional _cornet_. Though those cone-shaped hills were not very tall, their appearance seemed out of place in such an otherwise flat, low-lying landscape. The air was grey with clouds of mosquitoes, but they did not bother us. They wanted no part of our tainted blood.

I was tired, my upper back and shoulders aching, by the time we reached the island that the map marked as Morrigan's home. I was not used to the paddling motion we used to guide our _batteau_ through the swamp. It must have been worse for Alistair—how he coped with this heat wearing full mail, I could not imagine—but he made no complaint.

The island looked no different from the others we had seen, but as we approached, I began to feel a pulsing warmth in my head. It was not the black cacophony of voices that had filled my consciousness on the roof of Fort Drakon, but the presence of _something_ was unmistakeable. I glanced behind me at Alistair and met his eyes. I could tell he could feel her, too.

When the water became shallow enough, we stepped out of the boat and waded through the water and soft mud, dragging the _ batteau_ into shore. There was only a narrow rim of flat ground by the edge of the water; the remainder of the island was a steep hill. There was no sign of anyone around.

I walked forward onto the hillside and chuckled as my foot passed through it to flat ground underneath. It was only then that I heard the soft, splashing sound of someone dragging a paddle through water in the distance. "Do you hear that?" I whispered.

He shook his head.

"Someone may have followed us. Go through the illusion and wait for me on the other side. I will use that tree to hide, watch and wait. I'll call out if I need help."

He nodded and walked through the slope, disappearing from view.

After he had departed, a man in a grey cloak appeared, piloting a boat similar to our own, though smaller. Seeing our boat grounded on the island, he pulled up to shore and left his own behind. As he came closer, I recognized the thin lips and sallow skin of a man I had seen staring at us in the common room of the inn the night before. Before he could approach the hillside, I stepped behind him and drove my left dagger between his shoulder blades while my right reached around him, slicing into his throat. He collapsed, blood gushing from his wounds. He did not even have time to scream. He merely gurgled a bit, and then was silent.

I have heard that among the Chasind, it is the custom among some tribes for warriors to give themselves a scar for each man they kill. I shuddered to think how many scars I would have accumulated had I adopted such a practice. But I felt I had little choice. I could not let him report back to Yves—assuming that was who he worked for—where we had gone.

I stepped through the slope and found Alistair who was standing in a grove of trees. He held up his hand. "I am trying to clear some magical wards," he whispered, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I stopped and waited, until his expression relaxed. "That should do it," his voice low. "You…dealt with the follower?"

"Yes," I said, wiping the blood from my daggers on some leaves. I peered through the trees beyond him, making out a meadow and a rustic cottage with a vegetable garden against the slope of another hill, similar but much smaller than the illusion we had passed through. "Is it safe to approach? I would like to observe without being seen before confronting Morrigan."

"Don't get too far ahead of me," he cautioned. "There could be more wards ahead."

I nodded and advanced beyond the edge of the trees, confident I was still hidden by their shade. Now, I could see Morrigan and the girl, along with another girl—perhaps fourteen or so—who was lighting a fire for cooking.

As I approached, my daughter looked straight at me. "Somebody's coming, Mommy," she said. I met those dark eyes, so like her mother's, on either side of my father's nose and was transfixed. They seemed to draw me in. I was reminded of when we were hypnotized by the Sloth Demon in the Circle Tower, and trapped in the Fade. Yet this beautiful child meant me no harm…

"What do you see, child?" With an effort, I forced myself to look away from her, to her mother. Morrigan's gazed toward me, using a hand to shade her eyes from the sun's glare, but still could not see me.

"I don't see, but I _know_ they're there." The girl shook her little fist in frustration.

Seeing Morrigan begin the telltale gestures of a spell, I hurried into the bright sunlight, my hands open in a gesture of peace. "Hello, Morrigan. You might as well come out now," I called to Alistair.

She stopped in mid-gesture. "I might have known. I told you not to follow me, Aedan. We had a deal. I save your life and in return you leave me be. Instead, here you are. And I see you've brought your pet Templar," she added as Alistair emerged from the trees. The girl at the fire turned toward us, pale with fear. "Oh, do not worry, Ellaire. 'Tis only Alistair," she said disdainfully.

"Nice to see you, too, Morrigan."

"No further, please, not until you explain yourselves." she commanded, pulling her daughter closer to her. "Why have you come?"

The little girl looked up at me as I halted my advance. "I had a dream about you." Her gaze fell on Alistair, who stared back at her. "Both of you were in the dream…it was scary, but you helped me. You kept the monsters away from me."

"What are you talking about, Aife?"

"She is telling you why we came. We have dreamed about her. So has every other Warden in Orlais."

Morrigan's eyes widened in alarm. "What? That's not—" her hand flew to her mouth, then fell again. She bit her lip. "'Tis possible," she conceded, "but it should not have started so soon. She's not ready."

I sighed. "Ready or not, it's been going on for a year, now."

"Ellaire, you watch Aife. It appears I have something to talk about with these guests, after all."

Ellaire nodded, and led my daughter away, while Morrigan ushered us into the cottage. Alistair's gaze followed the little girl. He seemed almost in a trance. I had to take him by the hand to get him moving.

"You might have saved us a great deal of trouble by agreeing to meet me in the first place," I observed, as I sat down beside Alistair on a wooden bench opposite Morrigan.

"I was afraid you had come to claim your fatherly rights. I told her that her father died fighting the Blight. I think it's better that way."

"Maybe it would have been better if it were true." I gave a long sigh.

"You cannot think that. Better to give your life needlessly? I am happy to see you whole and hale, but if you would prefer to be dead, it is clear you lost your mind when you slew the Archdemon. However, you spoke of danger in your letter. What danger? Or did you merely wish to pique my curiosity?"

"Morrigan, the Wardens know that the Archdemon did not die in the usual way. They suspect a connection to the dreams that the wardens have been having over the past year. I cannot conceal what was done forever…and the Wardens will find you eventually."

"Why should they? They fight the Darkspawn. Any Warden, even one such as Alistair, can tell she bears no taint."

"But what if the Darkspawn find her?" asked Alistair.

"They will not. They _cannot_. The chantry account of how it happened is—wrong."

"And _you_ know the truth, of course. Well, then, why not come to Weisshaupt with us? You can explain to the First why he has nothing to fear."

"No! Why should I answer to them?" She glared at Alistair, then returned her gaze to me, "Why should you?"

"Alistair is right. Weisshaupt will not accept this simply on my word. I am—compromised. They will see me as a coward, and as your collaborator or your tool. Could you at least tell me your plans? What do you plan to do with this—god-child?"

"Do? The same as one does with any child. Teach her to be strong, to be proud of who she is."

"Yet you must have some plans…"

"I plan to prepare her for what is to come. I will not say more than that, not even to you."

"That's not good enough. The Wardens will search for her. And they _will_ find her. I killed a man who followed us to this island. You cannot hide here forever."

"'Tis your fault, Aedan. If you hadn't come looking for me—"

"They would still have found you eventually. We could sense her from outside the illusion. And we had some notion of where you were from things Wardens had seen in her dreams. You cannot stay here. You must go somewhere where there are no Wardens, unless—Aife—can learn not to pull us into her dreams."

She frowned. "I don't think 'twill be possible for her to control, not yet. But there is another way. I had not thought to use it yet, but I had an escape plan, in case Flemeth should find me. Tell Ellaire that the two of you will be joining us for the mid-day meal, and that I have—preparations to make, and am not to be disturbed.

We went out to the fire where Ellaire was making stew, while Aife sniffed the blooms in a flowering bush. She giggled as a cloud of butterflies surrounded her. They seemed almost to dance about her, in a way I'd never seen butterflies behave before…

"How did you meet Morrigan?" I asked Ellaire as she stirred the stew.

"She—saved me from the Templars. My father was an apostate mage. He lived in a small village near here. He wasn't harming anybody, but the Templars—they came—"

She broke off in distress. "Morrigan took me in. She said she needed someone to watch over Aife when she had to go to Val Royeaux…and I've lived here ever since."

"Morrigan told me about you, that you're the hero of Ferelden, Aife's father. But she never told me about you." She turned to Alistair. "She said there was another warden, but—she called you a Templar?"

"In another life, a long time ago. I never took vows. It was never something I wanted."

She looked somewhat relieved It was very pleasant, sitting in the shade of a weeping willow, eating stew. I felt relaxed. It almost reminded me of a family gathering back at Castle Cousland all those years ago.

After we had eaten, Morrigan emerged from her cottage, carrying a pack, and said to Ellaire. "'Tis time. You know what to do after I depart."

Ellaire's eyes widened in alarm. "But—now? So soon? Can't I go with you?"

"No, child. You must ensure that my mother cannot find me."

"Could they not—break the mirror?"

"That would not be sufficient, in itself, not to keep my mother away."

"But what am I to do without you. The Templars—"

"Be strong. You know the ways of the beasts and can hide, if need be. You have the power to protect yourself. Come." Ignoring Ellaire's distress, and turning to us, "You may see me off, if you wish."

We followed. I hoped for a bit more explanation, but nothing was forthcoming. She touched her hand to the rocky slope behind her cottage. A glow appeared and the slab of rock opened revealing a tunnel. We followed her through it and into a small chamber that was dominated by a huge mirror with an elaborately carved ironwood frame. The runes on it reminded me of the elven ruins where we had found the Lady. She touched the mirror's surface which glowed and seemed to ripple.

"Are you going to go—through the mirror? Where does it go?"

"To another place, beyond this world, beyond the fade. Do not attempt to follow. 'Twill be some time before I can find a means to return as this portal must be destroyed.

Before I go, allow me to provide you a warning. It is Flemeth you should fear, not me. I thought what she craved was immortality. I was wrong, so very wrong. She is no abomination, no blood mage. She was never human at all."

I nodded. I had never really believed the abomination story. She had been too complex. In my experience, demons were powerful, yet simple creatures, driven by primal desires. "But why should we fear her?"

"The ritual is but a means to an end. A herald for what is to come."

Alistair rolled his eyes. I kept my anger in check, but I felt much the same. "Speak plainly for once, Morrigan."

"I…cannot explain. No."

"Will I see you again?"

She shook her head. "No. When I return…it will not be until Aife is ready. It will not be for many years. I do not think you and Alistair have so much time."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"For change. Change is coming to the world. Many will fear change, and fight it with every fiber of their being, but sometimes change is necessary. Sometimes it is the only way to set people free…"

"What sort of change? What does this have to do with Flemeth?"

"I am sorry. I—cannot tell you, my friend. Goodbye."

She moved toward the mirror, taking Aife by the hand. The little girl looked around, bewildered.

Alistair moved onto the dais where the mirror stood, almost in Morrigan's way. An emotion I had not seen in her before flickered briefly across her face—could it be fear? "Morrigan—thank you," he said.

"What for?" Her eyes narrowed, as if she suspected a trick.

"For Aedan, our life together."

"'Twas not for _you_ that I did it."

"I know…but still, thanks." He stepped down and let her pass to the mirror.

Morrigan strode through the mirror, pulling Aife behind her. The little girl turned and cast a forlorn glance at Ellaire, who looked equally stricken, as she disappeared through the mirror."

Then with a heavy sigh, Ellaire raised her arms above her head, spoke a few words in a language I did not understand. The mirror shattered, then the shards began to glow with heat and finally evaporated.

When it was done, she began to weep. "What am I to do? I cannot live here alone, but if the Templars find me, they'll kill me."

"Would they, really?" I turned to Alistair. "She's very young."

"It would depend on the Knight Commander. Ordinarily, a girl her age would be brought into the Circle, but she has had training already. They might fear that she would teach…forbidden magics. It would be risky."

"Could I not come with you? I could be a Warden."

"Not yet. No one has ever attempted a joining so young, at least not that I've ever heard. And I don't think you know…what you ask." I thought for a moment. Maybe we could help her. "There is a man in Val Royeaux named Odouart, a mage outside the circle, who might help you. You may travel with us, there."

She assented. I supposed she saw no real choice.


	32. A River Barge: A Starry Night

A RIVER BARGE: A STARRY NIGHT

After paddling paddling to Bellerive, we caught a barge floating down the river that would take us to Val Royeaux by the next morning. It was a warm night and the sky was filled with stars as we stood on the deck of the barge. We sought to learn as much as Ellaire could tell us about Aife and Morrigan.

"Aife was…well, when I was with her, I was always content. She always seemed a delightful and charming child. And I will miss her, as well as Morrigan. And yet, when I was separated from her, and especially now that she is…gone, she seems willful and spoiled, always getting her way. It's strange."

"More like creepy, as if she controlled your mind," commented Alistair.

"She did not _control_ me in the sense that a blood mage would, but..." the girl frowned. "It's difficult to describe. Did you not feel it yourselves?"

I nodded, while Alistair shook his head, though not in disagreement. "She could be very dangerous if she does not learn to care for others. And she won't learn that from _Morrigan!_"

"That's not fair!" objected Ellaire. "Morrigan fought for me, saved me from the Templars, trained me. I owe her everything."

"Only because she had a use for you."

"Everyone is out for themselves. It doesn't change the fact that she helped me."

"She's trained you well," grumbled Alistair. "Everyone is _not _out for themselves. _I'm _not. And…" he glanced over at me.

I thought he was about to say 'Aedan isn't either' but he did not. Was he beginning to doubt me? I felt a pang, but in truth, I found it hard to live up to Alistair's image of me. Maybe it would be better if he _didn't_ think I was selfless and heroic. But would he still love me, then?

Alistair continued, "A Warden's life is committed to serving others."

"Yet many do not become Wardens by choice," countered the girl.

"People's motives—including Morrigan's-are often too complex to be described as wholly selfish or unselfish. Do you have any sense of what her plans are?"

"Probably to make herself Queen of Thedas," grumbled Alistair, as Ellaire glared at him.

I chuckled. "That seems too…worldly an ambition for Morrigan. She was barely able to tolerate having servants wait on her at Eamon's estate. Can you imagine her holding court?"

"She would not seek that kind of power," agreed Ellaire, "though it was never clear to me what she wanted, other than to counter her Mother. She spoke often about change, but as to what kind, how it would come about…" she shrugged. Forestalling my question, she added, "And no, she never told me what she thought her Mother was up to, either."

"Inability to answer direct questions seems to run in her family." I could not disagree with Alistair there.

"Do you really think we should have killed that little girl?" I asked him, after Ellaire had gone to her cabin.

He did not reply for a long time. "I don't think that I could have, to be honest. But that scares me. I worry about what use Morrigan could make of her ability to influence minds. If she were raised by a normal mother, in a loving family…."

"You think we should have kidnapped her, then? A Warden outpost is not a good place to raise a child."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right." He looked out over the dark water.

"In any case, if she's right about when she'll return, we'll never know."

"Do you think that makes it better? I don't. At least if Morrigan springs her traps when we're alive, we could hope to stop her."

"It's out of our hands now. I suppose that other Wardens will have time to prepare and understand what she is, at least." I pulled him close to me and put my head on his shoulder. "I don't know if we did the right thing, but it seems wrong to kill someone simply for being who they are. She may be powerful and dangerous, but…so are we, in our own ways. I'm not wise enough to guess how my actions will come out in thirty years. Maybe Flemeth can see so far, but I'm…just happy that I still have you beside me. I'm looking forward to going home."

He turned his head in surprise. "Home? I thought we would be headed to Weisshaupt tomorrow."

"Do you still think we ought to go?" I asked, hoping—but not expecting—that he would say no.

"I sent a message saying that I was on my way."

"It's just that—now—there's no reason to conceal anything. They called you because they knew I had not told them the truth. I can tell them everything in a letter, and for better or for worse, the girl is surely beyond their reach." _And I don't feel like defending my choices to people who left Ferelden to burn._

"I gave my word—and I think we owe them an explanation. In person."

_Owe them? What for? What have they ever done for us, except shorten our lives and give us nightmares._ Give us purpose and made us brothers, I imagined Alistair arguing. "I really want to go home. But if you insist…" I would try to change his mind, after we got back to Val Royeaux, I decided.


	33. Val Royeaux: Unforeseen Repercussions

VAL ROYEAUX: UNFORESEEN REPERCUSSIONS

We brought Ellaire to the herbalist's in the morning and were relieved that he thought he could find a place for her in Val Royeaux. Ordinarily, I would not entrust a young girl to a man I did not know well, but I supposed that Morrigan would certainly have taught her to defend herself, should he have untoward intentions.

It was another steaming, sunny day, and we sweated profusely as we climbed the Holy Hill toward Sybille's palace. As soon as we approached the Palais de Montfleurie, it was obvious that something was going on. It appeared that a caravan of goods was being assembled in the courtyard. I asked the guard at the gate—it wasn't the usual one—what was happening.

"The Comtesse and her son have left for their estates for a time, and some of their belongings are being sent after them."

"What? So suddenly? Why?"

"You'll have to speak to Madame Leliana, Commander."

I spotted her near the caravan, conversing with Sybille's valet. Her eyes were red and puffy as she turned to me.

"Oh, I did not see you come in. I was preoccupied…"

"Yes, I can understand that, but what's going on?"

She took a deep breath. "There was an attack on _Le Cheval Blanc_ last night. A number of our friends were killed….Thierry…Thierry was my oldest friend. I can't quite believe…" She closed her eyes and winced.

"I'm so sorry, Leli."

"They came through the cellar…we were _betrayed_." My mouth dropped open involuntarily in horror as I realized that this was my fault. "I advised Sybille to retire to her estates for a time. It's going to be too dangerous here for a while. I'm afraid that you and Alistair will have to find somewhere else to stay."

"We were planning to leave today, anyway, but I had hoped to thank her for her hospitality and I'm sure Alistair wanted to say goodbye to Rogier." _Maker, I could not have repaid her hospitality in a more horrible way_. In my haste to find Morrigan, I had not considered that the door in the cellar could be used to gain access to the inn. I had thought of it only as a place for secret conversation. "You are not going with her?"

"No. I must stay here to rebuild our position…to call in old favors…to see that those responsible pay. But not at the Palais. A few servants will remain to maintain it, but I will be going into hiding for a while."

"If there's anything I can do…or that Alistair can do, please let us know." _Please let me help make amends for this catastrophe._ I hesitated. Should I reveal that I was the source of the leak? It was important that she know that the attack must have come from the Empress. I bit my lip as I considered how to break this to her.

I did not have time. Four armored men in the royal livery came marching up the walk toward me. "Commander Aedan Cousland," one of them called out. "The Empress demands your presence at the Palais Royeaux immediately. We are to escort you there. Now."

I stared at them. "Am I…under arrest?"

He tapped his gauntleted hand against his thigh. "Her majesty does not tell me why she wants people; I just follow orders.. But she does not like to be kept waiting."

I allowed them to take me to the Palace. As I left Sybille's, I looked at Leli over my shoulder. She was watching me depart with narrow eyes, dark with suspicion.

Celene awaited me in a small audience chamber decorated with portraits of her ancestors and a huge tapestry commemorating some great Orlesian victory in battle. She was sitting on a carved oak chair with gold inlay, raised on a marble dais, with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She ignored protocol and began speaking before I even had time to kneel. "What have you done with Morrigan, Commander?"

"Done? Nothing. I passed on information, as I intended. What have you done to Leliana's friends?"

"Done? Nothing. We passed on information." she echoed. "There was a dead man on the island, and he was slain by blade, not magic. Do you seriously expect us to believe that you had nothing to do with this? It seems to us the unexpected danger Morrigan needed to fear was _you_."

_So she knew the contents of the letter, as I expected. _" The man followed me. I parted with Morrigan as friends and she chose to leave—freely—when she learned the situation."

"Tell us where she went."

"Tell me why you attacked _Le Cheval Blanc, _Your Majesty_!"_

She snorted. "You think to trade information again? We could have you arrested, charged with murder, held until you chose to tell us where Morrigan is…and more."

"I have proven difficult to capture and harder to hold in the past, Your Majesty. And imprisoning an Arl from Ferelden could have political repercussions, as you know." Though given Anora's lack of love for me, most likely would not.

"You try our patience, but very well. Her faction will have already guessed why the attack came and from whom. We felt that Sybille's faction had grown too strong and we distrusted their dealings with Nevarra. So we mentioned a point of weakness in their armor to a rival. We were surprised by the effectiveness of the strike. Your Leliana's friends were ill prepared. A surprising mistake."

_They relied on trust…which I abused. _"I informed Morrigan of a serious danger to her and her daughter. She removed herself by magic, through some sort of mirror. I cannot say where she is, but she described it as 'beyond this world and beyond the fade.' The mirror was destroyed, so that she cannot be followed."

Celene let out a short, frustrated groan and clenched her fists, then composed herself again. "Well, it seems that we both broke promises and were disappointed by the results." She gave a weary sigh. "Perhaps we both got what we deserved."

"Did Thierry get what _he_ deserved, as well?"

She folded her arms again. "Thierry was no common innkeeper and he knew the risks he ran. We speak with the voice of ten million souls. What are the lives of a few minor players in the Game compared with our interests? As a Warden, I would have thought you would understand that sometimes individuals must be sacrificed for the good of the whole." She stared at me with those cool, grey eyes. The brief moment of candor, when the human being behind the mask had shown through, was over. "Goodbye, Commander. This audience is at an end."


	34. Palais de Montfleurie:  Consequences

THE PALAIS DE MONTFLEURIE: LIVING WITH CONSEQUENCES

I hurried back to Sybille's hoping that I could somehow explain what I had done to Leliana. The festival grounds were even busier than they had been when we left to find Morrigan; I supposed the numbers would increase daily until the finale. I perspired as I climbed the hill. I was almost glad of the dark clouds gathering in the west, for although a storm was hardly auspicious weather for travel, it would at least break this oppressive heat.

I walked through the gate and into the great hall, where a hard-eyed Leliana met me. "It was _you_. It was the only thing that made sense, with the timing…but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it." Though her face was as expressionless as stone, her eyes were watery. "Damn you to the Black City, Aedan. How could you?"

"I was going to tell you, but you had left and I didn't think—I just thought of it as a meeting place, I never dreamed…" I stammered.

"You didn't know because you chose not to know. You told me you did not want a part in the Game and I _respected_ that. And you repay me by tilting the board in your ignorance. How could you be such a _fool? _And make such a fool of me." She shook her head.

"I—I'm sorry." It was a lame and pointless thing to say; my sorrow solved nothing. "If there's anything I can do…"

"A wise person told me once that even if someone takes advantage of your weakness, it is still _your weakness_. And so, I must take my share of responsibility for this. It is not _all_ your fault. We sought only to alleviate the border tensions with Nevarra, and did not foresee that the Empress might have reasons for maintaining the hostile peace. After Jehannette, we should have known better, been prepared."

_Jehannette? Maker, that was my fault too, though she still did not know that. _I suddenly recalled the elderly lady whose voice had reminded me of Leliana at the Ambassador's estate. With a coldness in my stomach, I realized that it had been her. She had bragged of her mastery of disguise before and I had given it no thought. I bowed my head and could say nothing to answer Leliana.

"Yes, it is my fault," she continued, "but I could never have believed you would be another Marjolaine. And for what? Because you wanted to talk to Morrigan!"

"I…thought it was important. I didn't think."

"No, you didn't think. Don't try to explain. What you did was inexcusable."

I swallowed. "I know. I _know._ Leliana, please let me help. I can't bring your friends back, but I can help you rebuild, spy for you, kill for you. I'll do everything in my power to help you recover from this…"

A series of expressions flickered across her face: calculation and desperation struggled to emerge, but distrust and anger won out. "You've done enough! Take your things and go." She turned on her heel and went out to the courtyard.

As bidden I went to gather my things from the room I had shared with Alistair at the palace. He had already gathered his things into his pack and put on his armor. At least, I assumed that he was wearing it, for neither he nor the armor were in the room. In a fog of sorrow, I managed to fill my pack. This was not the way I had thought to leave the Palais. Last night, it had all seemed so perfect. The girl was gone and would not trouble my dreams again and we were together. And now my friendship with Leliana was shattered, Sybille had fled, and I was not looking forward to explaining this to Alistair…if Leliana had not already done so, I thought with a chill. I picked up Alistair's pack and dragged it out, along with my own.

I passed Leliana on my way through the courtyard, but she turned away and I did not try to say goodbye. The guard at the gate told me that Alistair had gone to get horses for the journey. I sat down by the edge of the road and waited for him. The clouds I had seen earlier drew nearer, and their shadow rendered the wait a little more comfortable than it would have been earlier in the day.

By the time my love arrived, a cool northerly wind had begun to rustle the branches of the cherry trees that lined the road. He had only brought one horse with him. _Not a good sign_. He pulled on its reins, bringing the horse to a stop and stared at me for a moment before dismounting and moving to pick up his pack.

"Aedan…please tell me Leli is wrong." His voice was soft, the look in his eyes bewildered.

_Should __I lie?_ He might believe me, but if he didn't, it would only make things worse. Dishonesty had put me in this mess and it was a dangerous path to keep following, I decided. I closed my eyes and bowed my head. "I'm…sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." I heard a distant rumble of thunder, and rain started to fall.

He winced then his eyes emptied of expression. I had not seen that look since the days after Ostagar, at Flemeth's hut. "You…oh, Andraste's blood, why? How could you?"

"I was afraid Yves would get to Morrigan before us. I thought it was important and that I could warn Leli and Sybille." A shadow of doubt pulled at me. _Could the girl have somehow influenced me through the dream_? But no, I would not shirk responsibility for this so easily. It was not the first time I had assumed careless risks in single-minded pursuit of my goals, just the first time my designs had gone so horribly awry.

He snorted. "Important? _Important?_ More important than your word? To one of our dearest friends? Have you no honor? I thought friendship _meant _something to you!"

"It was a mistake." My voice was hoarse; I could barely get the words out.

"I can't understand how the man I loved—the man I thought I knew—could do this." He was looking away from me now. Was that a tear on his cheek or just a raindrop? He shook his head, as if trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. "I don't know who you are anymore. These past few weeks….I have to go." His voice cracked on 'have'.

_You don't have to do this. You don't even want to. Please don't._ "Go?" I echoed. "Where?"

"Weisshaupt." He said, tying the pack onto his horse and keeping his face averted from me. "I said I would go, and I will."

"But we can go together. We said we would face whatever came together." I pleaded, trying to keep desperation from rendering my voice shrill.

He made a small, strangled noise. I think it was an attempt to laugh. "Oh, together!" his voice breaking. "Together! Like we were together when you were sneaking around for Celene, betraying Leli's friends…"

I lowered my eyes. I had no answer for that. I had not lived up to my end of the bargain. He moved to get on his horse. _If I could just take him in my arms and make him listen to me…_I reached out to embrace him, but he pulled away, leaving me off balance. I fell at his feet and did not bother to get up. "Alistair, please," I groveled.

Still not meeting my eyes, he said only, "Goodbye," and mounted his horse.

"But you will come back?" I called after him. He did not reply, or even look back. I watched in disbelief as my golden warden rode off into the distance.

I knelt there in the mud, with the rain beating down upon me, for a long time after he was gone.


	35. Memories: A Dark Ritual

MEMORIES: A DARK RITUAL

After I gave up hoping that Alistair would turn around—and found the strength to rise to my feet again—I staggered off to Enrique's home. I had never been there, though Leliana had described it to me. He rented a room in an old palace on the lower, southern flank of the royal hill, not far from the festival grounds. I am not sure why I assumed he would be there, but I was not incorrect.

"Aedan? What are you doing here? You can hardly think that Yves will not hear of this visit."

"It doesn't matter now. Nothing matters…"

He stared at me. I suppose I must have looked a sight: my clothes drenched with rain and spattered with mud and maker knows what expression on my face. "You look like you spent three days wandering the Black City. Come in and sit down." He looked through the doorway behind me. "Where's Alistair?"

"Gone…" I said, lowering myself into a plain wooden chair. Enrique's room, though clean and spacious, was austere, with a minimum of personal belongings. The walls were bare, without paintings or tapestries.

His eyes widened. "Did he…slay the godchild?"

"What?" I rubbed my forehead, bewildered for a moment, then shook my head. "No. No, he's gone to Weisshaupt. Without me." Halting often to compose myself, I slowly explained what had transpired on the island and after. "I need you to send a letter to Weisshaupt and witness it, explaining everything. Letting them know it was all me, that Alistair never even knew. It's not his fault. You can make a copy for Yves if you so desire; there's no point in secrecy any more."

"I take it I'm free of my promise then?"

"Yes, I…hated forcing your cooperation like that, but I just…I'm sorry. For many things. And it doesn't matter now."

He nodded, saying nothing. "If we're going to do this properly, you need to tell me the whole story, and everything you can about Morrigan. We can do this tomorrow, if you're not feeling up to it now."

I shook my head. "Let's get it over with." I wasn't feeling up to it, but I doubted I would feel any better tomorrow. Or the next day.

He got his quills and ink ready and poured us some wine as I began. I told him about how we had met Morrigan, and about her mother. And then, I described the end of the story, the part that Sybille would never hear.

"After the Landsmeet was over and Anora had charged me with leading the armies against the Darkspawn, our scouts told us there was a great Darkspawn host moving in southwestern Ferelden. We hurried to Redcliffe to try and cut them off. Redcliffe Castle is on a high hill, excellent for defense and with a commanding view of the southern plains. Some Darkspawn had already arrived before us and overrun the village, but fortunately most of its people had fled to the relative safety of the castle. It was not difficult to overcome the Darkspawn besieging the fortress, and there our army set up camp, awaiting the arrival of the main horde.

That night Riordan explained the real reason we carry the taint. I had wondered, for simply being able to sense them did not seem much of an advantage when we also drew them to us. And as I listened to him, my heart sank. Of course, Riordan said that he would strike the final blow, but somehow I knew it would not happen that way. I felt certain that it would come down to me and Alistair in the end, just as it had after Ostagar. Even if we succeeded—and by this time, I was beginning to believe that we really _could_ win—there was to be no reward, no happy ending for us.

After Riordan left us, I gave Alistair a long, desperate kiss and then told him I wanted to walk for a while on the battlements on my own. And there, I met Morrigan. I suppose she had followed me, perhaps in one of her other forms. She told me there was another way, that the Archdemon could be slain and the Blight ended without a Warden needing to die. She would not tell me very much about the outcome of the ritual, other than that a child would be conceived and—if the Archdemon were slain when it was still barely formed—its soul would merge with the child. She promised me that the child would not bear the taint, but told me nothing else of her plans.

Maker damn me, but I took her offer. It just seemed so _wrong_ that after everything that we had been through, everything we had done, that we would have to lose what we had, so soon after finding it. I was tired of being virtuous and laying my life on the line for everybody else, as we had for months. I wanted a little happiness, a chance to live with my love…"

"How old were you?"

"I passed my twentieth winter in the Deep Roads. Alistair was a year older than me."

"So young. I suppose I was hasty to judge. The four Wardens that died were older men, past their prime. It's a harder sacrifice for one so young. One forgets…so what happened then? I thought the final battle was in Denerim?"

"It was. It turned out our reports were wrong and the main body of the Darkspawn host—with the Archdemon at its head—was headed to Denerim. We were almost too late. Denerim's wall had been breached near the alienage and Darkspawn had poured into the city. We carved a swath through the Darkspawn army to the gates.

At that point, we split up. Riordan insisted that it was best for him to go after the Archdemon alone, that by himself he would not be sensed. He would lure it to the roof of Fort Drakon and try to slay it there. Alistair and I, along with Oghren and Wynne and some of the troops we had gained through the treaties, were to fight our way through the city, defeating the Darkspawn general,s and prevent further Darkspawn from coming through the breach. The remainder of our group—Leliana, my hound Conal, Zevran and Morrigan—stayed with Ferelden's army to help them hold the gates. No, Morrigan didn't come with us at the end. I judged that the powerful spells she wielded—she could generate lightning storms, blizzards, and balls of flame—would be best suited to dealing with vast numbers, and so she would be most helpful to an army. Wynne, on the other hand, specialized in healing, regenerating, strengthening our bodies and spirits, and so I decided her talents better suited to a smaller group like ours. I left Morrigan and the others at the gate, and never saw her again until yesterday. Though we had little hope of holding the gates indefinitely against such numbers, if we could just keep them sealed until the Archdemon was slain, there was hope of saving the city.

The ogre general in the marketplace was not difficult, just a big tough warrior, not so different from the ones we had faced before. The Hurlock general in the alienage, however was a powerful emissary and his spells wreaked havoc with our attempt to stem the tide of Darkspawn. But some of the elves of the alienage helped us as best they could, and the natural resistance of the dwarven warriors to magic also aided us in bringing him down. We had cleared much of the city and received word that the gates held, for now.

But Riordan had failed, even as I had foreseen. He had lured it to the roof of Fort Drakon, but he had not slain it, and it called the remaining Darkspawn in the city to it. We had to fight our way in, and this proved one of our most difficult battles. They had an advantageous position on the steps going up to the fort, and there were several emissaries and drakes along with many of the most potent warriors among the Darkspawn. Our journey—and Ferelden's hopes of survival—very nearly ended there, on that final threshold. But with the help of the Dalish elves, Wynne's healing magics, and Alistair's Templar training, we broke through and made our way into the fort.

The interior of the fort had been overwhelmed by the Darkspawn, but the lowest level was free of them. And somehow, Sandal—the adopted son of a dwarven merchant that had traveled with us—was there, surrounded by dead Darkspawn. I cannot explain it. I had never seen Sandal fight, or give any indication of ability to do anything, other than his skill with enchanting runes. He was simple, probably lyrium-addled, and could barely speak. It is a mystery that bothers me to this day how he survived in there.

We fought our way through the upper levels and made it out to the roof, where the Archdemon awaited. What I mostly remember of that final battle was the noise. You will recall how the Archdemon whispered to us in dreams, but when he's nearby, it's no whispering, but a clamor of voices, shouting, screaming…if this be sweet music to the Darkspawn, I can only say that the taint I bear does not give me any insight into their minds. And I am glad of that.

It was not, in the end, as hard as many other fights. I think it sensed me and Alistair and feared us. It stayed away from us and we mostly engaged it with arrows while the circle mages and a few others—Arl Eamon, Ser Cauthrien—dealt with the darkspawn who were still trying to answer its call. I don't know why it stayed on the roof. Had it flown outside the gates into the rest of its army, I think it could have saved itself. Perhaps it did not know that we were the only Wardens remaining in Ferelden.

When it was bleeding from so many wounds that its force was clearly spent and it lay defenseless and dying, I ran forward to deliver the _coup de grace_. Alistair was running too, but in my lighter armor, I reached the thing first. I still wasn't sure Morrigan's ritual had worked and I did not want to live without Alistair.

I leaped onto its neck and plunged my daggers deep. There was a great flash and I was paralyzed for a moment. And then it was over.

But it was for nothing, in the end. I wish I had died with the Archdemon." I buried my head in my hands.

"Nothing? Nothing? Have you any idea how much I envy you?"

I lifted my head and stared at him.

"Five years. And he may yet return whereas my Riquilda…you asked me once what I would have done to have a life with her. We could have. At first—I have no idea why—we thought my petition of marriage would be successful. Her brother was my friend, and I had already attracted notice for my swordsmanship, and was to be knighted that summer. We were foolish enough to think that would be enough, that her father would overlook the fact that I was the third son of a petty baron, without land or title.

When instead, he offered her hand to the Principe, I begged her to run away with me. But she would not. Maybe she just didn't love me enough to become the wife of a common sellsword, for I would have had to flee the island, and abandon what social position I had. Or maybe she loved her duty to her family more than she loved me. I don't know." He gave a long sigh and stared into his wineglass.

He finished writing the letter. I read it, and signed it.

As he poured out another goblet of wine, I asked, "How did you go on, when you had lost…everything that mattered?"

He sighed again. "Aedan, if you don't kill yourself—and you won't—"

"What makes you so sure?"

"You would need to be both a fool and a coward for that."

"You called me both, when we first met."

"So I did, but coward was a hasty judgment on my part. As I was saying, if you don't kill yourself, you will wake up one morning and realize that there are other things that matter to you. I don't know if that morning will be in a fortnight, or a year, or ten years, but I can promise you it will come."

"Time heals all wounds," I said, my voice filled with bitterness and disbelief.

He shook his head. "Do I seem healed to you? You've seen enough battle to know that there are wounds that will not heal by time alone. But even with those, you do grow used to the pain."

"Aedan, I do not have the wisdom to say if your choices have been for well or ill. We all make mistakes. Your mistakes, like your successes, reach farther and have impact on a scale far beyond mine or anyone else I know. But I don't think you're a bad man, for what it's worth."

"Not good _enough,_" I mumbled. I gulped down the rest of my wine and fled.


	36. Port Royeaux: A Letter

PORT ROYEAUX: A LETTER

I woke up and rolled over into a man's strong back. "Alistair…?" I asked groggily. I rubbed my throbbing forehead. Was I waking up from a nightmare? Then, I realized that Alistair didn't have that much hair on his back. I lurched out of a hard pallet, wondering where I was. The floor seemed to be moving…had I booked passage on a ship back to Ferelden already? I couldn't remember having done so, but I couldn't remember much from after I left Enrique's, least of all how I had met the strange, black-haired men with whom I had apparently spent the night. Maker, I felt horrible.

I threw up into a chamber pot that was near the bed and sat down on the floor. Not much had come out of my stomach; I must not eaten very much last night. I had not felt like eating, I remembered. I must have sought oblivion in wine, but now that was wearing off, leaving me feeling as sick to my stomach as I was sick to my soul.

After emptying my guts, I felt a little better. I found some elfroot in my pack and chewed on it. I lacked the energy to make a proper poultice, but it would ease my headache somewhat and help to settle my stomach. In time, the floor seemed to stabilize and I realized I was not at sea. I pulled myself to my feet, opened the shutters and looked out over the docks. I must have wound up in one of the dives down by the harbor. Well, at least I wouldn't have to go far to find passage out of Val Royeaux. There was no reason for me to stay here, now.

Not that there was much reason to return to Ferelden, either. If it hadn't been for Alistair, I would have left the wardens long ago. What I really wanted to do was pursue him, as I had when he left Amaranthine, but this time, I didn't think there was any point. At least if I went back, he would know where to find me, if he changed his mind.

Not bothering to say goodbye to the sleeping sailor, or whoever he was, I put on my travel gear, grabbed my things and dragged myself down to the inn's common room. I sat down heavily by the bar, and a serving wench brought me some coarse, crusty bread and a tisane. She arched an eyebrow slightly at the latter request, "A rough night?" I couldn't even muster a smile in response, and merely grunted.

After I had finished, I found a quill and some vellum in my pack and began to write a letter. If I sent it with a ship, it would probably arrive in Weisshaupt long before he did. Perhaps it was pointless. For a man plagued by self-doubt, Alistair was nevertheless capable of swift and decisive action. But I had to try.

Val Royeaux, Justinian 5

_Alistair,_

_My dearest love._

_I hope that your journey to Weisshaupt went well. I cannot tell you how much I wish I was there with you, and I pray that you are treated with the courtesy and respect you deserve. I have sent a letter that should explain everything to the First, and absolve you of any blame. _

_I have been thinking about what you said. Maybe it's true. Maybe I have no honor. Maybe I'm selfish and unscrupulous and undeserving of your love. It may be that the way that I fight is emblematic of my approach to everything in life. I can't even say that my betrayal of Leliana was the first time I had broken a promise to someone who helped me. Ask Anora about that. Or Morrigan, for I did not slay her mother as she wished. I misread the stakes and made a horrible mistake. _

_Maybe you really didn't know me. I was always afraid that if you saw me as less than heroic that you wouldn't love me. That was why I concealed what I had done with Morrigan for so long, why I didn't tell you how I had gained Celene's assistance. I guess I abused your trust, just as I abused Leliana's. Every time I've deceived you or hid things from you it was out of fear of your disapproval. Was that the only way? Did I win your love falsely?_

_Perhaps it's true that the man you fell in love with was an illusion. But the man who loves you is real, and would do anything, try to be anything, to win you back, if you'll only give me another chance._

_I will return to Amaranthine, though the prospect of commanding the Wardens without you by my side is a bitter one. But I know that you would want me to do that, and so, I will, though I truly don't know how I will be able to do it without you. I don't know if you ever really understood how much I depend on your faith in me. I have always relied on you to give me strength and purpose. But I will go back there and wait and hope for your safe return. The hope that you might change your mind will have to be reason enough to keep me going._

_I love you. I need you. Please come home._

_With all my love, always,_

_Aedan_

I closed the letter, dripped some candle wax onto the seam, and pressed my warden commander ring into it. After that, I paid my bill, strapped my pack onto my back, and went to the harbor to seek passage to Ferelden.

I found a ship that was leaving for Highever that day and the captain agreed to take me there. Perhaps I would keep my promise of a proper visit to my brother, after all. Maybe putting more effort toward keeping promises would help win Alistair back, and in any case I was in no hurry to go back to Amaranthine. Although I suspected Fergus would find me dreary company now…

After we had set sail, I stood on the stern of the ship, watching Val Royeaux recede into the distance. Somewhere beyond the city, my golden warden rode away to the north, every instant taking him farther away from me.

I pulled the gilded rose Alistair had given me six years ago out of its pouch and held it over the rolling waters. I admired the way it gleamed in the sunlight. It was a beautiful, precious and fragile thing. I needed only to open my hand and it would have fallen into the depths and been lost forever, like the beautiful, precious, and fragile thing it had represented.

I closed my hand tightly and returned the rose to its pouch. I was not ready to let go. Surely, he would come back. He had to come back.

THE END

Well, maybe not quite...I have one last story plotted out in my head that would be titled "Alistair's Journey" if I retain enough creative energy to get it done. Thank you for reading to the end.


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